A Different Approach
by GoddlessOutrage
Summary: In Half-Blood Prince, Ron has an altercation with Ginny, leading to his eventual four-month estrangement from Hermione and 'relationship' with Lavender. Have you ever wondered what would have changed if Hermione knew why Ron's mood shifted so suddenly? The idea is explored in this story. Rated M just to be on the safe side. Please review, as this is my first Harry Potter story.
1. Chapter One: A Talk With Hermione

Hey, guys. This is my third attempted fan-fiction, my second published one, and I won't hesitate to say I'm extremely nervous about publishing this. I am a huge fan of the Ron/Hermione relationship, and this fan-fiction is a point-of-departure from the chapter Felix Felicis from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ about what would have happened if Harry had talked to Hermione about Ron's sudden mood-switch before the Quidditch match victory which led to the complete breakup between Ron and Hermione for three or so months. I know I'm not the best writer, and this is probably shoddy, but any kind words or constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I don't envision this having many more chapters. Right now I'm thinking at most three or four, but I could do more if response is positive and I feel I'm up to the task. Really, my heart is pounding right now, but I'm going to publish this. Please tell me what you think.

I do not own the rights to any of these characters. J. K. Rowling does, and I'm no J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter One: A Talk With Hermione**

Hermione sat alone in the Gryffindor Common Room with a book open in front of her and several others surrounding her, but Harry knew her long enough to see that she wasn't really studying at the moment. She'd always use books as a defense, to make people think she was busy so they wouldn't speak to her. _Did she start doing this after starting at Hogwarts_, Harry wondered, _or does the habit go back to when she attended Muggle schools?_ Harry didn't know, but it wasn't going to work this time. He knew he had to talk to her, as much as the idea turned his stomach.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, determination shoring up his will to get this done and do it right, "mind if we talk for a second?"

Hermione looked up from the book spread out on the table, and Harry could automatically tell that his assessment that she hadn't been studying was correct. She had bags under her eyes, and Harry unhappily remembered her attempt to take every class Hogwarts had to offer by using a Time-Turner in their third year. Taking multiple classes by going back in time, she was often a wreck once the day was over and she had as many as seven assignments to work on at once, and like now, she never looked like she got more than three hours of sleep a night.

"Of course, Harry," Hermione sighed, closing the book which Harry identified as _Confronting the Faceless_, the book Snape assigned to his sixth-year students in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry noticed that she didn't even mark the page she was on, further confirmation, as if he really needed any, that she wasn't reading something for an assignment. Placing the book down, she then moved a pile of three extremely thick books to her other side so Harry could actually see her face while talking to her.

Harry sat down across from her and tried to figure out how to start off the conversation; something, he realized stupidly, he should have done before coming over here.

"I'm sure you noticed that Ron's a bit...," Harry began, noticing how Hermione's demeanor seemed to change after he mentioned Ron, "tetchy."

_Weak ending_, he thought, and Hermione seemed to agree, as her eyes flared and she scoffed.

"Yes," she said mockingly, "that's one way of putting it. Personally, I'd describe it as him being an a-"

"I'm guessing you don't know why," Harry said to interrupt whatever, probably unkind, word was going to come out of Hermione's mouth.

He saw her anger seem to almost deflate after he asked her this question.

"No," she replied, sounding defeated. "I don't understand it at all. I told him just a week ago that I wanted to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him, and he seemed to take the suggestion with good grace. Now he's just all cold and angry to me, and I don't know why!"

Though she whispered this last part, Harry could tell she was frustrated with the situation by the way her eyes started to glisten. She seemed to notice this as well, and made a point of turning away from him while discreetly using the sleeve of her robe to wipe her eyes.

Harry sighed. _I knew this was going to be hard, but dammit, I'm not going sit here while the potential relationship between my best friends withers away to dust._

"After our last Quidditch Practice, in which Ron performed poorly, mostly due to his nerves," Harry begun, and Hermione subtly nodded along, subtly enough that Harry wondered if she even knew she was doing it. "We took the second floor shortcut behind the tapestry to get back up here, but, well..."

Harry stopped, not only because this was an uncomfortable subject to talk about regarding the things Ginny said alone, but because the memory of Ginny snogging Dean still made Harry feel extremely agitated, to put it lightly.

_I need to put my feelings about Ginny on hold for now, _he thought. _Hermione needs to know what's going on, and I know Ron would rather face Aragog again than actually talk to her about this._

Hermione looked put-off at Harry's stopping point, but didn't say anything as Harry collected his thoughts, which he was extremely grateful for, as the telling would only get harder with her badgering him to continue.

"In the shortcut, we ran into Ginny and Dean," Harry said, gritting his teeth despite his wanting to ignore his own feelings on this certain issue for now, "Well, um, snogging. Fiercely."

Hermione nodded her head without surprise, which slightly annoyed Harry, though he figured that Ginny was probably more forthcoming with Hermione about her relationships than she'd ever been to Ron or himself, and for good reasons, it seemed. Harry did notice, however, a small look of understanding come to Hermione's face. Not that she knew exactly how this led to Ron becoming a prat overnight, but she was smart enough to see something there which must not have occurred to her before while pondering the issue.

"Well," Harry continued awkwardly, now wishing Hermione would interrupt at some point, even if it did make this take longer, "Long story short, Dean kind of left quickly. Ron and Ginny got into an argument, and Ginny said, well, some stuff to Ron."

"What kind of 'stuff'," Hermione asked in a curious voice, but Harry could swear there had been a tint of sadness in her voice, and wondered once again how much Ron's sudden change in behavior had affected Hermione. _Maybe not just one or two sleepless nights, _he considered, _but perhaps some tears as well._

Harry sighed heavily before he continued, and started to rub his temple as though he had a headache.

"Basically," he started, using his massaging to block his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Hermione while saying this and wanting to get it all out, "she mocked him for his lack of relationship experience, mentioning my snogging with Cho. She also brought up the fact that you snogged Krum, and said that the only reason Ron was upset at her for snogging Dean was because he had the snogging experience of a twelve-year-old."

Hermione looked like she'd been Stunned. Whatever she had expected, it certainly hadn't been this, it seemed.

When Hermione didn't say anything, Harry decided he needed to put a better 'story-done' finish on it.

"Uh, Ron didn't take it very well," he said lamely, moving his hand down to the table, where his fingers started tapping nervously.

Hermione remained silent for a few more seconds, then opened her mouth to speak.

"But Ron knew I'd been with Viktor during our fourth year," she said quietly, and Harry wondered if this was a statement to him, or if she was just thinking out loud, which she had been known to do. Either way, Harry though it safe to chime in with his take on the issue at hand.

"I think he never thought about the details of the relationship," Harry replied, slightly annoyed that he was blushing at the moment. "He never considered that you'd actually snogged Krum before Ginny said it, I guess."

Harry was relieved to see that Hermione was blushing as well.

"It's not like we snogged a lot or in public," she said quietly, and Harry figured she'd never expected to discuss this with him. "Ron's angry about something that happened two years ago?"

Again, this had an aura of sounding like Hermione was thinking out loud, and Harry had to wonder what her brain was doing with this new information that she seemed to have no knowledge about until now.

"To be completely honest, Hermione," Harry said, put-off that he even needed to say it, "I'm pretty sure Ron has, well, feelings for you, and he's, I don't know, embarrassed about the fact that he's not really been with anyone while you have."

He'd expected some sort of reaction from Hermione after revealing Ron's feelings about her, but not for her face to turn as red as Ron's hair.

"He-you," Hermione stammered, obviously not sure how to begin, "he's discussed how he feels about me with you?"

Harry really wanted this conversation to end at this point, figuring this was something Ron and Hermione should be discussing together, and more importantly, without Harry around. However, he resignedly answered.

"Well, no, not in so many words, but come on, Hermione, you're the smartest witch I know. You've had to known he was, well, feeling something towards you."

Hermione scoffed again, only this time with disbelief, not anger.

"Of course I suspected that," she started, "but I didn't know for sure if he felt the same way I..."

She stopped suddenly, and Harry would have sworn under the influence of Veritaserum that her face became even redder, which he also would have sworn was impossible just thirty seconds before.

"Do you think he'd...," Hermione started in a small voice, but she looked down at her now closed book and didn't finish.

"Admit to it? I'm not sure," Harry confessed. "It can't get any worse than it is now, though. Look, as your best friend, I couldn't leave you in the dark about why Ron's been different these past few days. I feel very awkward discussing this, and if you don't mind, I'd prefer that you talked to Ron about this and not me."

Hermione looked up at him thoughtfully, and Harry saw she finally had her blushing under control.

"Thanks for telling me," she told him softly. "I've been wondering why he's been acting... cold. I was beginning to wonder if it had been something I did recently, but it's something I did two years ago."

Harry was shocked to see she was almost laughing. _However good she is at explaining girls' emotions, I'll never get a bloody hang on it._

"Do you know where Ron is now," she asked seriously, her mirth, or whatever Harry had mistaken for mirth, seemingly subsiding not seconds after it started. "I think we have things to talk about."

"Yeah, he went down to the Quidditch pitch to practice some more before the game tomorrow. We have a practice later this evening, but with the mood he's been in, peeving the rest of the team off, he decided to get some alone time down there before tonight."

Hermione nodded grimly, and then a steely glint appeared in her eye, and it seemed one last question occurred to her.

"Also," she asked bitterly, "do you know where Ginny is?"


	2. Chapter Two: Confronting Ginny

First things first, I want to thank bon, Anahissa, Zalini, and Guest for their kind reviews of my first chapter. I sent personal messages to two of them, but as I couldn't contact you all, I'll leave my thanks here. And Guest, you read my mind. While I'm a 21-year-old guy who knows about as much about 'girl talk' as I do astrophysics, that was exactly what I was aiming for, and I hope you find this chapter suitable.

Secondly, I was up all night considering the implications of what Ginny said to Ron, and I've come to a conclusion about how things would change between the Trio and Ginny. This said, I have a feeling that this fanfiction won't be as short as I thought it'd be. I know exactly what'll be happening in the next chapter, and I'm very excited to start working on it.

Lastly, I, of course, do not own these characters. That'd be the most excellent J.K. Rowling (when she's not saying Hermione could have gotten with Harry, that is).

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**Chapter Two: Confronting Ginny**

Ginny was grinning as she walked up the staircase from the portrait to the Gryffindor Common Room. For once in her life she thought she might have one-upped her older brothers Fred and George with a prank, but sadly knew she could never tell them about it for fear they'd tell Ron sometime in the future. She was happy she'd stopped in a bathroom quickly to wash her hands off, as it wouldn't do to show up in the Gryffindor Common Room with dirt on her hands at the same time her older brother was currently practicing Keeping.

Granted, it was more subtle than anything the twins would have done, but she had been peeved off with Ron since the incident in the passageway behind the tapestry, so she was happy to have cursed the Quaffle before Ron had started practicing to make it harder for him to stop it. _It's not like it'll be any easier during an actual game,_ she figured, _so in some ways, I'm actually making him a better player._

She didn't much figure Ron would go for this logic, however, not that she bloody cared what that prat thought at this moment. However, if Harry got a whiff of this, she knew for a fact she'd be risking expulsion from the team, considering that Harry seemed to value Ron as a Keeper more than he valued her as a Chaser. That, or that it was a cruel trick anyway, no matter who was involved with it.

Speaking of Harry, she saw him sitting across from an annoyed-looking Hermione at one of the corner tables she liked to study at. _I almost wish Ron was here, _she though. _It'd be great to play some minds games to get him to believe Hermione was falling for Harry_. She knew this would be going to far, and risking a blowout between Ron, Harry, and Hermione, which is why she'd never actually suggest it if she got the chance, but the idea still brought a slight grin to her face, considering she knew the best way to annoy Ron from now on.

Harry then turned slightly and waved energetically once he saw her, which made Ginny slightly suspicious, as Harry almost never showed this much energy in the Common Room unless it was due to a new educational decree implemented by Umbridge. She smiled as she gave him a small wave back, more thinking about how attractive she found him when he was fired up against Umbridge last year than reacting to his odd waving.

She also noticed that Hermione now looked less annoyed, which she was sure could only lead to good things. An annoyed Hermione usually led to Harry also being annoyed, and while she was still officially with Dean, she had been watching Harry closely for any sign of a potential great time to start a relationship. An annoyed Harry didn't blend well with that plan, she'd discovered this past year.

Turning her brown eyes away from them and to the stairs up to what was now the fifth-year girls' dormitory, Ginny walked a bit quicker as to not get called over to chat with Harry and Hermione. She still had some dirt on her robes, and she most certainly didn't want either one to notice it.

* * *

Hermione saw the red flash of hair disappear up the stairs, then turned back to Harry. She thanked him quietly for tipping her off that Ginny had just arrived, as she'd been so busy considering where she might be that she didn't even see her walk in.

He gave a noncommittal welcome in return. She wasn't at all surprised to see him look a bit nervous, but he was just going to have to live with that feeling for the next however many minutes it would take to talk to Ginny.

"Do you know how long Ron will be out there," Hermione asked, wanting to know if she should confront Ginny now or after having what was most likely going to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation with Ron.

"Easily for the next two hours," Harry replied. "As I said, I'll be holding a team practice tonight after dinner to see if we can cobble up a working team for tomorrow, and I know that no matter what else Ron is feeling, he wants to do well against Slytherin."

Hermione's eyes flickered back to the door leading to where Ginny was now, and was planning on how to best approach the topic with her when Harry spoke up again.

"Look," he started, looking a bit intimidated, "I know you need to say some... stuff to Ginny, but could you, I don't know, not be too harsh?"

By the way her eyes narrowed, he knew this request was as about as likely to be granted as Kreacher was to pop up and start tap-dancing. And between the two, he'd bet on a tap-dancing Kreacher to happen before Hermione took it easy on Ginny.

"Did you agree with the things Ginny said to Ron," she asked quietly, and Harry was alarmed to see she was beginning to look like she did while rowing with Ron after the Yule Ball.

"No," Harry said quickly, certainly not wanting her to release her anger in the middle of the crowded common room, "it's just that, well..."

Harry couldn't finish, and he was surprised when Hermione finished his sentence for him.

"You fancy her," she said bluntly, looking Harry straight in the eyes.

Harry looked down, wondering how obvious it had been.

"Yeah," he muttered, checking out his fingernails closely to avoid any eye contact with Hermione.

Hermione sat quietly without replying for a few seconds, than spoke in a gentler voice.

"I'll take your feelings into account, Harry," she started, happy to see him actually meet her eyes when she said this, "but frankly, whatever I say, she'll have coming to her after what she said to Ron, and for breaking her promise to _me_."

She thought of what might happen up in the dormitory, then sighed as she gave in to asking another question.

"What was the incantation to that sound-reducing charm by the Prince," Hermione asked, knowing full-well that Harry was aware of her distaste for anything related to his used Potions book, and would undoubtedly realize what she'd just been considering.

"Umm, _Muffliato_," Harry answered, amazed she'd even asked, but glad she had the foresight to see she might need it.

"Right," Hermione said, looking unhappy but nonetheless unwilling to back away from using the charm if necessary.

"Well," she said, getting up and moving her many books into her bag, "might as well get this over with as soon as possible."

Clasping the bag shut, she hoisted it over her head to rest on her shoulders. She turned back to Harry as if to say something, but even though she opened her mouth, no words seemed willing to come out.

"Good luck," Harry said.

Hermione closed her mouth and nodded as though this is what she needed to hear, and turned towards the door that led to the dormitory.

* * *

Ginny was happy to discover that none of her fellow fifth-years were in the dorm, as she didn't want even the slightest possibility that someone would figure out what she'd been up to. She thought about her recent actions. She already felt pretty guilty about what she'd done, which was amazing, as she'd just been considering ways to make Ron's life worse just a minute ago.

_I'll let it go for now, _she decided. _If I'd went six years without snogging anyone while in Hogwarts, I'm sure I'd be in a bloody terrible mood as well. The lack of a girlfriend can be punishment enough for him._

Happy she made a decision on whether or not to escalate the tension between herself and Ron, Ginny took off her dirty robes and started hunting around for some clean ones in her trunk. She was startled when she heard a knock on the door.

_Who knocks before coming into their own dormitory, _Ginny wondering, not at all sure who it could be behind the door.

"Yeah, who is it," she yelled loud enough that whoever it was should have been able to hear her.

Ginny found some clean new robes, but decided to wait for a reply before putting them on, not wanting to miss the response due to the sound of sliding fabric.

She was shocked to hear Hermione's voice reply from behind the thick door.

"It's Hermione, Ginny," Hermione said, and Ginny thought something sounded a bit off with her voice, but she couldn't place it. "Mind if I come in so we could talk about something?"

Ginny grinned, wondering if Hermione was going to finally probe her for relationship advice or something of the sort, which Ginny had been expecting Hermione to do for a while now. _Guess she just sounds nervous, _Ginny decided, happy she didn't have to wonder long and hard about Hermione's tone of voice.

"Give me a second," Ginny yelled back, "I'm changing my robes."

Pulling her clean robes over her head, Ginny looked at herself quickly in the mirror by her bed, straightening her hair so it looked a little less frizzy.

"Okay, you can come in, Hermione," Ginny said, looking forward to the upcoming conversation if it was what she was expecting.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath. _Whatever I do, I cannot go in yelling. I just can't._ Though considering the rage that was boiling inside her, she didn't think she'd be able to hold off for long. She fixed a faux-smile on her face, and opened the door to Ginny's dormitory.

"What's up, Hermione," Ginny asked in a sunny voice, and Hermione grimaced. It wasn't easy to start an argument when someone was happy, and more so, when they weren't expecting it. It was especially hard for Hermione, as she tried hard to keep the friends she got, with a worry in the back of her mind that had been there since she was a child that she would always lose more friends than she could gain. She'd changed a lot from her first year at Hogwarts, but she still remembered her first few months here vividly, and while it was unlikely ever to get to that point of social isolation again, the seed of worry remained.

_Take it slow_, she thought, _ask what you need to ask. What you need to know the answer to. The entire conversation hinges on one question: Did Ginny know?_

Hermione ignored Ginny for now and lifted her heavy bag of books over her head and set it next to Ginny's bed before she answered.

"I wanted to ask you a question about something Harry just told me about."

Ginny's eyes narrowed as she heard Hermione's tone of voice. _That's definitely not nervousness. What is that? Anger? It couldn't be, not Hermione..._

"Oh, yeah, what were you two talking about, anyway," Ginny asked curiously, trying to keep her thoughts out of her tone. "You guys looked like you were having a serious discussion for a minute."

Hermione gave a heavy sigh and sat on the bed closest to Ginny's.

"When you said those things to Ron a couple of days ago," Hermione started, voice shaking with anger. She was amused, even in her rage, to see Ginny's eyes widen in surprise. _Didn't think I'd ever find out about that, did you, Ginny?_ She continued, trying desperately to keep her voice down, as she hadn't used the Prince's charm yet. She didn't want to give Ginny any hint of what was about to happen.

"Did you know that Ron liked me," she finished her question, face blushing, though not with embarrassment. She would have enough time for that when talking to Ron. No, she was red with anger, and she could tell Ginny was now alarmed.

Ginny sputtered.

"I, uh, what-"

"I don't have time for denials, Ginny," Hermione cut through her words coldly. "Answer the question. When you told Ron that Viktor and I had snogged, something I told you _in confidence_, did you know Ron liked me?"

"Hermione, uh...," Ginny tried to think of some combination of words that might calm her down, though none came to her. _If there's going to be an explosion here, I guess I should just be honest about this._ "I thought that he did, yes, and I used the example with Krum to make a point about why he was overreacting."

Hermione sat still for a second, and as Ginny started to shift uncomfortably in the silence, Hermione got up from the bed as she held her wand in her hand.

"'Make a point'," she quietly scoffed, then pointed her wand to the door.

"Muffliato," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione, what spell was-"

"HOW COULD YOU," Hermione screamed at Ginny as she turned around, eyes ablaze with rage, though Ginny couldn't help but also notice tears starting to form. "'Make a point', you say? HOW ABOUT HURT HIM AND THEN POUR SALT IN HIS WOUNDS? YOU TOLD HIM THAT THE GIRL HE LIKED _SNOGGED_ A QUIDDITCH PLAYER HE ADMIRED, AND THAT WAS JUST TO '_MAKE A POINT'_?"

Ginny jumped up from her bed and glared at Hermione. She was not going to take this type of abuse from someone she did absolutely nothing to harm.

"YES, IT WAS TO MAKE A POINT," Ginny shouted back at Hermione, kind of surprised that no one had been coming to check on the commotion at this point. "THE POINT THAT HE'S JUST PATHETIC! YOU, ME, AND HARRY HAVE _ALL_ SNOGGED SOMEONE, AND HE SHOULD KNOW THAT-"

"DO YOU THINK HE DOESN'T," Hermione shrieked, apoplectic with rage. "DO YOU THINK HE'S STUPID? DO YOU THINK HE HIMSELF DOESN'T FEEL HE'S PATHETIC SOMETIMES? YOU _LIVE WITH HIM_, GINNY! DOES IT SEEM HE'S ALWAYS FLOWING WITH SELF-CONFIDENCE WHEN YOU SEE HIM AROUND THE BURROW?"

Ginny just gawked at her, and while she opened her mouth, no words seemed to be able to come out.

"DID YOU KNOW I SAID I WANTED TO GO TO SLUGHORN'S PARTY WITH HIM NOT _TWO WEEKS AGO_," Hermione continued to scream, realizing that her voice hurt by this point, but not caring in her anger. "AND THE PAST TWO DAYS HE'S BEEN COMPLETELY IGNORING ME? I THOUGHT IT WAS SOMETHING _I_ DID! I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT EVERY INTERACTION I'VE HAD WITH HIM IN THE PAST WEEKS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHY HE'S CHANGED, AND IT TURNS OUT IT WAS JUST BECAUSE HIS _LOVING_ SISTER TOLD HIM, ONCE AGAIN, THAT HE'S PATHETIC!"

At this, Hermione slunk down on the bed again, massaging her extremely sore throat while still glaring at Ginny through her tears, daring her to deny just one thing she said. And lo and behold, she did.

"I only said that stuff because he acted as though I was a whore who snogged anyone I took a fancy to," Ginny said with a voice that she hoped would calm Hermione down a bit. "If he had any experience of his own to speak of, he wouldn't have gotten annoyed at me, and I wouldn't have said what I did."

"You're his little sister," Hermione said quietly, her voice cracking. She blushed a bit before she continued, but embarrassment wasn't going to stop her from making her point. "He could have shagged every girl in my year from every House and he'd still hate seeing you with a guy!"

"Oh, please," Ginny scoffed angrily, "as if he'd have the balls to even snog a girl let alone-"

She stopped talking suddenly, as Hermione was standing and pointing her wand straight at her, tears streaming down her face. Ginny realized just then no matter how angry she thought she'd seen Hermione before, she'd certainly never seen her as furious as she was now. And knowing Hermione, if she was going to curse her, she'd probably learned about some good ones in the multiple books she'd read.

Hermione's breath hitched for a second, still glaring at Ginny, then looked down at her outstretched wand. She seemed somewhat surprised her wand was pointed at Ginny, and she slowly lowered it.

"Do you know," she asked Ginny quietly, eyes facing the floor, "what Ron has to deal with emotionally on a daily basis?"

Still shocked that Hermione had pointed her wand at her, yet alone screamed at her, Ginny just quietly shook her head, which Hermione must have noticed despite the fact she still seemed to be looking at the floor.

"Every day he has to cope with his feelings that he's worthless," Hermione started, looking up at Ginny with her red, teary eyes. "He's thinks he's second-best to Harry, his best friend, who just happens to be the most famous young wizard in the world, 'The Boy Who Lived', 'The Chosen One'. He considers you, his younger sister, more loved by his parents because you're the only daughter they have, and he's just the sixth son with more well-accomplished brothers."

Ginny didn't say anything, but Hermione nonetheless stopped talking for a second while she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, now slightly damp from her tears.

"He hasn't told me these things," she finished quietly. "He hasn't told Harry these things. I seriously doubt he'll ever tell anyone these things, ever. But I know this is how he thinks, how he feels about himself, and all you, and Fred, and George, ever do is constantly mock him for his Quidditch ability, his love life, for being who he is! I'm surprised he hasn't done a Percy and broke it off with the _whole lot of you_!"

Hermione finished, her chest heaving after her rant, and sat down on the bed next to Ginny's again, lowering her eyes to the floor, crossing her arms over each other as she started shivering.

Ginny just stared at her, heart racing faster than it did when she thought that she was going to be expelled in her first year at Hogwarts.

"I hadn't thought-," Ginny began with a small voice, but Hermione cut her off.

"No, you haven't," she said, and while the yelling had ceased, the coldness in her voice hurt Ginny even more. "He's your brother, and never once did you stop to consider how he was feeling about anything he's been through, about everything you and your brothers say to him on a normal basis."

Deafening silence filled the room, silence Ginny felt duty-bound to break, to offer some rebuttal to the things Hermione said, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she just couldn't think of an appropriate or adequate response. She just closed her mouth, sat on her bed, stunned, watching a girl she sometimes thought of as her older sister sob silently and shiver violently on the bed of a classmate.

"We've talked about your boyfriends," she started, looking at Ginny . "I told you about Viktor when you asked, gave you all the details. But you promised you'd never mention it to anyone, especially Harry and Ron. Yes, they could think what they wanted, but they didn't know until you decided your anger at Ron, your desire to hurt him, mattered more than my trust in you."

Hermione looked down at the floor for a second, and when she looked back up, her face was red again, though Ginny had a feeling it wasn't anger this time.

"Are you going to sit there and tell me," she whispered, blushing at what she was admitting to, "that you never once stopped to consider that I might share the feelings that Ron has for me? What did you think my response would be once I found out about this? For me to pat you on your back, say 'That showed him', and laugh about it?"

Hermione looked expectantly at Ginny, waiting for a response from her. Ginny opened her mouth again, and was shocked to learn she still had a voice.

"Hermione," she said quietly, not by choice, but because she couldn't seem to bring her voice to its normal volume, "I _didn't_ know you felt that way about Ron. I thought you were just good friends, honestly."

"Is that because you just didn't think anyone could like him," she asked harshly, her voice sounding a bit rough from the shouting.

"That's not fair," Ginny responded angrily. "No matter what stupid arguments we get into every now and then, our family loves each other! We all take the mickey out of each other all the bloody time! How was I suppose to know that Ron might not have been taking it well?"

"You could have looked," Hermione replied shortly.

Hermione sat still a little longer, then got up from the bed to grab her schoolbag. As she situated it on her shoulders, she turned back to look at Ginny.

"Ginny," she sighed, sounding exhausted, "I just can't talk to you right now. I need to go find Ron and talk to him about this, which I doubt will be easy. I'll say this, then let you get on with whatever plans you had for the day. If you ever, subtly or unsubtly, insult Ron in any way in front of me, I will curse you. I mean it, Ginny. When someone hurts Ron, that hurts me as well, and I'm not going to take it. Keep that in mind."

She turned away from the hurt expression on Ginny's face. _Did I just lose her as a friend, _she thought with wonder. _ I've always thought of myself as a nice person. Why, when it comes to Ron, do I throw that all out the window and resort to threats?_

She opened the door to go down the stairs. It was a long walk to the pitch, and she planned on using the time to plan out how she was going to talk to Ron about this without embarrassing him too much. _And myself as well_, she added._ I certainly don't want to have a crying fit in front of Ron._

Before leaving the room, without turning around, Hermione added something for Ginny to think about.

"If you didn't notice," she said quietly, not wanting her voice to be heard by anyone on the stairs, "Harry likes you, and any time you wanted to start a relationship with him, I think he'd be more than willing. I'm telling you this as my last act as a friend. We're done. Goodbye, Ginny."

Ginny didn't say a word, and Hermione walked out of the dormitory and closed the door. She leaned against the wall for a second and closed her eyes, resting her head on the hard stone. She hoped beyond hope that she looked presentable so no one would have a clue what had just happened. She had no idea how red her eyes were, and she was never girly enough to deem a compact mirror a necessary thing to carry around. _Oh well, no matter how I appear, I'll only be in the common room for ten seconds at the most. I need to get to the pitch._

Collecting herself, she quickly walked up the stairs to her dorm to drop off her heavy bag of books, then she started to head down. It was time to talk to Ron.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Well, there you have it. I don't have much to say down here, except that I am now convinced that canon-wise, Hermione was _never _informed of what Ginny said to Ron, or at least, not before they were already long-married, because I don't think Hermione's response here is too far off what it would have been if she had known. If you disagree, please write to tell me what you think would have happened. For the record, it was a blast writing CAPSLOCKHermione. I loved all of Harry's shouting in OotP, and I wanted to bring some of that here.

Finally, I want everyone to know that I don't actually hate Ginny. Hermione is extremely harsh to her in this chapter, but that because after thinking about it for a few hours, I realized that what Ginny said to Ron was one of the lowest blows she could have hit, and it ruined the Ron/Hermione relationship for _four months_. I don't hate Ginny, but I am a bit bitter towards her, especially since she never got comeuppance in the books for what she said.

I hope you liked this chapter. Please review with anything you have to say about it, though I'd prefer any typo-related things to be sent directly towards me. I don't want four comments saying "It's than, not then" (the mistake I most often make, I'm afraid). Please tell me what you guys think.


	3. Chapter Three: Exciting End to the Day

First, I want to everyone for their reviews to my second chapter, and special thanks to the Guest who mentioned hard truths, mostly because I can't respond directly to thank you for your insightful opinions on this matter. I will always send a personal thank you message when possible, but a public thank you is always healthy, I think.

Secondly, I want to publicly address the concerns reviewer HeroInTheWings731 had. Without spoiling anything, the whole confrontation in the hidden passageway is not quite as one-sided as Hermione raging last chapter would imply, and I want everyone to know that I have no intentions on this being a Ginny-bash, and I'll reiterate that I do not hate her character.

As for the guest who decided I do, in fact, hate Ginny, I'm sorry you see it that way. I am not, in fact, an only child, and acting as though Ginny is completely in the right and Ron is completely in the wrong is just not paying attention to both sides of this issue.

I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the fact that it's been a week since I posted. I got distracted by the last two episodes of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (more to the point, the FitzSimmons ship) and by the amazing story _To Know You is to Love You_ by Coyote Laughing Softly. Read this excellent story once you have time.

Lastly, I, of course, do not own these characters. That'd be the most excellent J.K. Rowling (when she's not acting like Hermione could have gotten with Harry, that is).

* * *

**Chapter Three: An Exciting End to the Day**

"I – CAN'T – EFFIN' – DO – IT," Ron yelled, out of breath. He'd been practicing out here for at least an hour, and what did he have to show for it? Dick, that's what. He knew he wasn't playing at his best. He knew he was distracted due to recent events. He knew this all, but there was something else he knew: there was something seriously wrong with this Quaffle.

Ron had been bewitching Quaffles to try to score goals since the beginning of his fifth year, mostly due to his fear that anyone who he could ask to practice with so he could attain the position of Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team would just laugh themselves to death at the thought. Ron knew he wasn't even half the Keeper Oliver Wood was, but he did know how to charm a Quaffle correctly. However, this Quaffle was just not cooperating.

Usually, it would aim for a goal at random, sometimes swerving as though a Chaser had put a curve on the throw, but it never tried to aim straight at Ron, like it was doing now, or fly at full speed towards a hoop only to stop right before reaching Ron, just to back up and do it again. Ron didn't know if he'd been distracted while charming it, but it certainly had never acted like this before.

_Maybe I'm over-thinking it_, Ron considered as the Quaffle backed away from the hoop it had just been aiming towards. _Maybe I'm just too preoccupied to play well right now._

Ron shot a freezing charm at the Quaffle to stop it for half a minute so he could rest for a bit. _At least this gives me something to do instead of sit around and snipe at Hermione, or anyone else for that matter._ He wasn't fooling himself, though, with the inclusion of 'anyone else'. It was Hermione that was at issue here, Hermione who he couldn't stop thinking of, Hermione who he pictured snogging Krum and more every time he closed his effin' eyes-

His thoughts broke off as the Quaffle barreled towards the hoop on the far right, and Ron realized that this was probably not the time or place to dwell on these matters. _As if I could stop myself_, he thought as he narrowly slapped the ball away from the goal, sending it down twenty feet before it picked itself up again.

Still, he knew he was being unfair to Hermione. It was not her fault Ron was feeling, well, something for her that he either couldn't or simply wouldn't put a name on. It was not her fault that Ginny told Ron she had snogged Krum. Hermione probably didn't want either Ron or Harry to know, and Ron was happy, at the very least, that he wasn't seriously considering this possibility during his fourth year, or his friendship with Hermione might have ended right there. As it was, it was still an extremely terse time for them, and he'll never forget the shouting match they had after the Yule Ball had ended. That aside, he knew his cruelty towards Hermione these past few days was just not right.

_What can I do though, _Ron thought, missing the Quaffle as it flew into the left-most hoop, _walk up to her and say, "Sorry I'm being a dick, Hermione, it's just that I can't help thinking of you and Krum shagging every time I close my bloody eyes. Oh, and this bothers me because I have feelings for you."_

While Ron had the feeling that it'd probably shock Hermione into silence, something he usually got a kick out of doing, his intuition told him this would probably be the absolute worst way to go about dealing with his feelings and this situation.

_Bugger that_, he thought, watching the Quaffle getting ready to fly at the goals again, _what I'm doing now is the absolute worst way to deal with this. Blocking her out, with her not knowing why, all because of what she did two years ago. Hell, she even said she wanted to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with me. Why should what happened with Krum two years ago matter when she asked me to go to a party with her this month? Did she mean as a friend... or a partner?._

The Quaffle was shooting towards the goals again as Ron made this epiphany. _That's it. Before practice tonight, I'm going to tell her everything, damn the consequences. Even if she doesn't feel for me as strongly as I feel for her, she still needs to know, because we can't go on like this. Frankly-_

The thought was not completed, however, as at that moment, the Quaffle, which under any normal charm would have avoided him as best as possible, suddenly swerved towards his right hand and smashed it against the middle goal post.

The pain was more immense than anything Ron had felt before, beating how he felt getting his leg broken in his third year. Delirious with pain, Ron guided his Cleansweep Eleven slowly to the ground, though not in a very controlled manner. Looking over at his right hand, he threw up, the puke falling to the ground alongside him. The bleeding, bruised mass of flesh, tendons, veins and bones barely resembled a hand, with the pinky and ring fingers seemingly coming out of the side of his hand, and the other fingers didn't look much better.

His hand flaring with pain, Ron Weasley lost consciousness, let go of his broom, and fell twenty feet to the base of the goalposts, slamming his head on the grass. His broom loftily continued to descend to the ground, landing softly in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

Groaning, Ron narrowly opened his eyes, squinting into the sun, happy to see a group of clouds heading to block it out. _Least I won't boil while I suffer_. His right hand was throbbing madly, but he couldn't stomach to look over at it. Groggily reaching his left hand to the back of his head, he felt a sticky substance, and realized he must have hit the ground pretty hard. He moved his now-bloody hand from his injured head to block out the sun from piercing his eyes, searching for his broom in the overcast sky, though he didn't see it anywhere, the same of which could not be said of the Quaffle he had been practicing with.

_Oh, you have got to be fuckin' shi_-

The Quaffle, whose charm had worn off, landed directly on Ron's forehead, and he thought no more.

* * *

The air was slightly warm when Hermione Granger stepped through the doors of the castle onto the grounds. Checking her watch, she saw that it was 3:30, plenty of time to talk to Ron before they'd be interrupted by the practice tonight, though she doubted the conversation would last that long, especially considering that no matter what else was going on, there's no way Ron would miss dinner after these hours of practice.

_To be fair, though, I have absolutely no idea how this conversation will go, do I, _she asked herself as she walked north to the Quidditch Pitch. _I've never really had to do something like this before. He's been short with me for the last few days; will he even want to listen to what I have to say?_

Hermione shook her head fiercely, telling herself to stop worrying. Ron liked her, Harry had said. That alone should be enough to get him to want to have a talk with her, though she knew that with his myriad of feelings, something could potentially stop him from prolonging the conversation.

_Look, we'll just talk. I'll tell him how I feel about him, _her face reddening at the thought of revealing the feelings she's held for him since the summer between their third and fourth years at Hogwarts, _explain how I told off Ginny, and, well..._

Her walking faltered slightly, halfway to the pitch. Her shadow faded, and looking up, she saw the sun had been blocked out by a cloud bank, and it was certainly more chilly then it had been when she left the castle. It was her thoughts, however, and not the change of temperature or weather that caused her to slow for a second.

She could envision the beginning of the conversation. She'd call to him from the sidelines of the pitch, if he hadn't already flown down from the goals wondering what she was doing there. She'd ask to talk to him, and she figured his curiosity alone would allow that to take place. She could see the two of them sitting in the locker room, her spilling out her feelings to him.

But then what?

She didn't know. She could see the beginning of it perfectly, but she had absolutely no idea how it would end. _Would he admit his feelings as well? Would he get freaked out by her sudden openness and flee from the room? Would they-_

She stopped the thought, afraid of where it would go, though knowing it was taking into account the hours they had before being disturbed and them being left alone with no one around. She was not even going to think of it, though if Ron's response was what she hoped it would be, some definite cuddling would be in order, if not some snogging.

_No, no, no, I will __**not**__ think of that yet_, she warned herself, rubbing her arms to fight back the new chill in the air. _We have a very meaningful talk to get through, and I will not allow myself to consider what physical actions might or might not take place afterward._

Reaching the pitch, Hermione walked through the gates, looking up to the overcast sky towards the three goalposts on the far side of the field. Seeing nothing, she looked at the other set, where no flying shape could be identified.

Frowning slightly, Hermione walked over to the locker rooms, wondering if he was in there. She stopped herself from entering, though.

_The last thing I need is to walk in on him while he's in the shower,_ was what went through her mind, though images of a sopping wet Ron wearing only a towel came along with these thoughts, making her feel something she certainly did not have time to deal with.

_Oh come on, _she blushed, leaning against a wall to the stands, _I am not going to let my mind wander to that as though I'm a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl._

"Hey, Ron," she shouted into the locker room, "it's Hermione. I wanted to talk to you about something. May I come in?"

'_I want to talk to you about something',_ she thought with wonder. _What an amazingly eloquent way to start off what might be one of the most important conversations I'll have all year, maybe my life._

She stood still for a second, hearing no reply. She tried again, speaking a bit louder, though once again there was no reply to be heard.

A ball of worry quite separate from her worries about the up-coming conversation starting growing inside her as she yelled for him again. Receiving no reply, she decided to risk it, and entered the locker room, hand over her eyes leaving only the smallest of gaps in case she ran into Ron.

"Ron, it's Hermione," she said a bit quieter, considering she was back in an enclosed place. "I have my hand over my eyes so I don't see anything, but I've yelled for you three times now and you haven't replied. I wanted to-"

She stopped speaking, however, as it was clear that Ron just wasn't in the locker room. The air wasn't humid as though the showers had been running. She lowered her hand to get a better view of the room, and aside from Ron's bag, there was no evidence he was in here.

She stood rooted to the spot, looking at Ron's bag, which seemed to contain his non-Quidditch related clothes, and felt herself turn cold.

_Where is he_, she thought frantically, pacing through the room. _Where is he?_

Stopping, she allowed herself to take a few deep breaths, not wanting to get overcome with panic when there was probably a very obvious explanation to this. Not that she could think of one at this time, but that was beside the point. She was not going to lose her mind just because she couldn't find Ron in the first five minutes she'd been at the pitch.

Turning back towards the doors, she walked quickly back onto the pitch. She glanced at both sets of hoops, confirming Ron wasn't flying up there, and then she yelled her question, winching at the panic that was apparent in her voice.

"RON, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Nothing stirred anywhere she looked, and the dimness of the day since the clouds arrived did not at all help her in her quest. However, she did notice something in the middle of the pitch, and figuring it was a better clue than nothing, ran out towards it.

When she saw what it was, ten feet away from it, she came to a halt, her heart dropping. _Ron would __**never **__leave his Cleansweep just lying on the ground, it's one of his most favored possessions..._

She slowly began walking toward the broom. The panic she had outwardly held back could be held back no more, and, grabbing the broomstick, she screamed.

"RON, WHERE ARE YOU," her voice cracking from the abuse she'd put it through today. "RON!"

She looked frantically towards the goalposts on the far side of the pitch, and she almost screamed when she saw a dark shape lying there at the foot of the goals, a dark shape with ginger hair. Clutching onto Ron's broom, she ran as fast as she could towards the shape.

_No, no, no, _she thought, wishing she could banish all the images that had popped up in her mind. _He's fine, he has to be fine._

Hermione ran towards the shape, and she was happy she finally got there, as she was about out of breath. She lit her wand so she could get a better view, then looked down.

It was Ron, but something was terribly wrong with him. There was blood all over his face, puke on his robes and next to him, and his right hand looked as though it'd been crushed by a Troll, as it was bruised, swollen, covered in blood, and...

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered, seeing that a bit of bone seemed to be sticking out of his hand, and that his fingers were in positions they didn't belong in. The one saving grace was that he still seemed plenty alive, as she could see his chest moving up and down slowly.

She felt the tentacles of panic start to grip at her mind, but she stomped it out.

_Now is not the time to panic. I need to get Ron to Madam Pomfrey right now! But how do I move him?_

She considered using Mobilicorpus, vaguely remembering it being used to moved Professor Snape's body while he was unconscious at the end of her third year, but she didn't want to risk hurting Ron anymore than he was already, and she recalled how it stood Snape up as though he was floating on his feet. Hermione needed something that could keep Ron as level as possible. She needed...

An idea came to her in a flash, and she pointed her wand at Ron.

"Locomotor Ron," she whispered, wiping the tears that had started to form away with the back of her broom-filled hand. Ron rose about a foot off the ground, and floated there, arms and legs slightly splayed to the sides, but not touching the ground. Satisfied, she started moving her wand to cause Ron to follow when she noticed Ron's wand laying on the ground.

She went to kneel on the ground, still holding out her wand to keep Ron up, and put down Ron's broom. She reached for his wand, thanking whatever force there was that it wasn't broken. Placing it in one of the pockets of her robes, she picked the broomstick up and stood unevenly, hands full. She glanced at the ground and saw nothing more than a Quaffle a few feet away, matted with blood and some red hair. Hermione closed her eyes, took a breath to steady herself, and opened them again.

She started for the exit of the Quidditch Pitch, dread filling her with every step she took.

* * *

Harry was running through a hallway on the fourth floor, winning disapproving glances from everyone he ran past, and the occasional 'Hey, you prat!" when he bumped into someone, which he seemed to do about every other minute. Pity his nimble Seeker skills didn't always seem to do him a lick of good while on the ground. He knew only one thing: Ron was hurt.

Annoyingly, while Harry didn't much care for the school's gossip vine, mostly due to the fact that it was clamoring about him half the time, he still expected a bit more information than that Ron was in the hospital wing, but Seamus seemed woefully unconcerned about the details. To be fair, he might still have been a bit peeved at Harry for picking Dean as the substitute Chaser after Katie got injured, but nonetheless it didn't enamor Harry towards him at all.

There was also sadly the fact that those passing along the gossip just didn't care enough about Ron to add details, and as Harry made it to the first floor, he wondered how many people in Hogwarts actually cared about Ron as a person. Not the Keeper, not the friend of Harry, not the last male Weasley at Hogwarts, but the person he actually was. No matter what fights they had, he knew that Ginny could still be counted as a member of that select group. Of course Harry would count himself, and Ron might be shocked how much Hermione would be in that group.

_But besides us three?_ Harry shook his head as he turned the corner, the doors of the hospital wing coming into view. He supposed he could also count Neville and Luna, but they didn't seem to talk as much since Dumbledore's Army closed up shop, even though Ron and Neville slept in the same bloody room. This Harry had to blame Ron on. He always had a knack for ignoring those around him who weren't strictly within his close circle of friends, and no matter what adventure they went on last year, Neville didn't seem to enter that circle to him.

As for Luna, hell, Harry hadn't really stayed in contact with her. She was a different House and year, true, but that didn't seem like a good excuse considering that she did risk her life for Sirius last year, and did it like it was as easy a choice as getting eggs for breakfast was. As for Ron, well, half the time he thought Luna was a complete nutter and said as much, and the other half he still thought she was a complete nutter, but was struck speechless by some mystical Mombastree or her common Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

So in short, he wasn't surprised Ron seemed to let that friendship go, though Harry mentally kicked himself, and made a mental note to check up on Luna after the match tomorrow.

He was about to barge through the doors when he stopped himself. There was no way that Madam Pomfrey would approve of him coming in like a half-crazed madman, and he'd be thrown out before he could utter Ron's name. Taking a second to calm himself, Harry opened the door to the hospital wing.

He could automatically tell that Ron was situated on the third bed on the right of the room, as the curtains to the bed were closed and he heard voices from behind it. One was the hushed, caring, tone of the matron, Madam Pomfrey, and the other sounded like Professor McGonagall, which he could tell by the clipped but also concerned tone.

Looking around, he saw Hermione slumped on the bed opposite of where Ron was located. She wasn't facing the door, and it seemed like she didn't hear him come in. Quietly walking towards her to try to figure out what McGonagall and Pomfrey were saying, he supposed Hermione heard something, as she turned around and looked at him.

She looked terrible. Her eyes were redder than Harry had ever seen them, she was shivering and holding her shaking arms to her body, and her entire posture screamed that she was deeply unhappy. Shaking, Hermione stood up and let out a small, quite sob.

"Harry," she croaked, her voice sounding as bad as she looked, and she threw her arms around him and hid her face on his chest, where he felt his robes becoming distinctly damp.

"Hermione," he said slowly, patting her on the back, "it's okay, Ron's-"

He cut himself off. _How the hell can I tell her Ron's fine when literally all I know is that he's here in the hospital wing?_

"How is Ron," he said, changing his statement. "What happened?"

Breathing shakily, Hermione took her head from off his chest and removed her arms from around him. Turning her head away slightly, she spoke.

"Madam Pomfrey hasn't said anything yet. She's been in there twenty minutes with him, and Professor McGonagall got here about fifteen minutes ago. She questioned me a bit, then went behind the curtain with Madam Pomfrey. I don't know how he is!"

"Okay, okay," Harry said, wanting to calm Hermione down a bit. "How'd he get here? What happened?"

Hermione sat down on the bed she'd been on before, and Harry sat beside her.

"I walked out to the Quidditch Pitch to, you know, talk to him," she started, folding her arms around herself. "I couldn't see him flying or in the locker room, and then I saw his broom laying on the middle of the pitch."

She nodded towards the broom leaning against the nightstand of the bed closet to them, which Harry hadn't noticed before. He also saw, glancing over, that Ron's wand also lay on the nightstand, and it looked a bit... bloody.

Harry turned back to her, silently urging her to finish the story as quickly as possible so Harry would know what to expect when allowed to see Ron.

"I knew he'd never leave it laying around like that, and then I saw a shape at the foot of the goalposts," she said quietly, voice hitching for a second. She closed her eyes for a bit, and Harry assumed she was trying to keep herself calm. When she spoke again, her voice sounded as normal as it could after the heavy use it must have gotten in the past hours.

"Ron must have fallen from his broom for some reason. The Quaffle he'd been practicing with was a few feet away, covered in blood. He was unconscious when I got there. His face was all bloody, and his hand looked...," but Hermione seemed unable to continue, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand to dab at her eyes.

"It looked crushed, Harry," she said quietly, and Harry just sat there stunned. _What in the hell had happened out on the pitch? Why was the Quaffle covered in blood? It was a fuckin' Quaffle, not a Bludger! Ron always charmed it so that it'd aim away from him and just for the goals!_

He sat quietly next to Hermione, allowing her the time to finish mopping up her tears. A voice from their side startled both of them.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. They jumped off the bed and turned towards her, and Harry saw McGonagall subtly looking Hermione over as she continued to speak.

"Madam Pomfrey has informed me that Mr. Weasley is in no immediate danger," she started, and Harry and Hermione let out a collective sigh of relief. "His hand appears badly damaged, but Madam Pomfrey assures me that she'll be able to heal it right up, and it'll be as good as new after he gets rest over the next few days.

"He's still unconscious, and Madam Pomfrey would prefer he get out of it on his own time, as she predicts it should be within twelve hours. He has also appeared to have obtained a cracked skull in two places, one on the back of his head and one on his forehead. While Madam Pomfrey has healed the obvious physical damage there, she said that she won't be able to ascertain if there any mental problems until after he gets up."

Professor McGonagall turned white while adding this bit, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how she'd be reacting if this wasn't a teacher-student conversation. He knew she deeply cared for her Gryffindor students, even though she never showed favoritism in giving House points or dealing out homework.

"It's unlikely," seeing the looks on their faces, "very unlikely, but possible..."

She trailed off, and stepped toward Hermione.

"Miss Granger," she said softly, and Hermione brought her head up to look at her. McGonagall surprised Harry by putting a hand on her shoulder as she continued. "Madam Pomfrey added that if it wasn't for you finding him when you did, he could have been much more seriously injured, and she even said there was a small chance you saved his life, especially considering no practice was planned for another two-and-a-half hours, and he'd have been left out there if someone hadn't gone searching for him."

She looked proudly at Hermione as she lowered her hand from her shoulder.

"100 points to Gryffindor are in order, I think, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled slightly, but Harry could tell she was still worried sick about Ron. Professor McGonagall turned her attention to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I really do hate to burden you with this now, but the Quidditch match against Slytherin shall be taking place tomorrow, and Madam Pomfrey has informed me that she'd curse me before allowing Ron to play, if he's even awake by then. As team Captain, finding a suitable replacement for Mr. Weasley is in your jurisdiction, though if I may offer a suggestion, you held tryouts. Who was the second-best Keeper there?"

Before Harry answered, he saw Hermione redden and turn away slightly. While Ron did block the five required goals, Cormac McLaggen hadn't been too far behind when Hermione had used a Confundus Charm on him, causing him to swerve the opposite direction of where the Quaffle was headed. Harry wasn't too put off by this, considering that McLaggen was the most arrogant jerk in Gryffindor Harry had ever had the displeasure to come across, but neither he nor Hermione had informed Ron of what kept him on the Quidditch team this year, and Professor McGonagall was unlikely to be happy if she knew.

"That'd be, uh, Cormac McLaggen," Harry muttered, unhappy he'd have to play a match using him regardless of what happened at the tryouts.

Professor McGonagall's lips tightened, and Harry figured she'd had some past experiences with McLaggen that made her dislike him as well, even though she'd never say it due to her professional manner.

"I see, Mr. Potter," she said, looking slightly put out. "I'll inform Mr. McLaggen that his attendance shall be required at the practice tonight. At 7, I believe?"

Harry nodded, and Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Right, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, it's been a stressful day for all of us. Perhaps a rest is in order-"

"Actually, Professor McGonagall, I was hoping Harry and I could sit with Ron for a bit," Hermione cut in. Harry turned away uncomfortably, as interrupting Professor McGonagall never seemed like a good idea, but she didn't seem to mind at this moment.

"Miss Granger," she started, sounding concerned, "I really don't like what your voice sounds like. I'll see if I can get Madam Pomfrey to dig something out for that, and I'm sure she'll allow the two of you to sit here a while with Ron."

She smiled at the both of them, then turned back to walk through the curtains surrounding Ron's bed. After a short, whispered conversation, she returned to address them, Madam Pomfrey pulling back the curtains behind her.

"Madam Pomfrey said it'd be okay to sit with him," she said, nodding curtly at the two of them. "Mr. Potter, please remember you have Quidditch practice tonight, so I would suggest you not forget to partake in dinner before you head down to the pitch. I shall go find Mr. McLaggen and inform him his attendance is required for tonight."

Professor McGonagall turned and walked out of the hospital wing, shutting the door behind her. By this point, Madam Pomfrey had finished with the curtains surrounding Ron's bed and turned to look at Hermione.

"Miss Granger," she began, pulling out a small bottle from a cabinet lining the wall, "this will help sooth your throat, so take this. Afterwards, your throat should be feeling much better. If it wasn't for the fact that I feel you'd likely move to Mr. Weasley's bedside as soon as I left the room, I'd give you a bed of your own."

Hermione grabbed the bottle, then pulled up a chair to the left side of Ron's bed, placing the bottle on the corresponding nightstand. Hermione thanked her quietly, then turned to Ron, and began to look him over, taking in his bandaged hand and head. Satisfied, Madam Pomfrey then turned to Harry.

"Mr. Potter," she began, "I'll have you know that I'm already more impressed with you as a Quidditch Captain than I was with Wood, if you don't mind me saying."

She chuckled at the flabbergasted look on Harry's face and continued.

"Oh, I'm not talking about team performance, and quite honestly, I have a rather low opinion on Quidditch in general," she stated, and Harry's face got slightly red, "but unlike your former Captain, you seem to actually take into account the health of the player before the health of the team. For example, not one time, when a Gryffindor was injured during Wood's tenure as Captain, did he ever come in asking if that player was alright. The first question out of his mouth was always about whether or not the team member would be released in time for the next practice or match. And Professor McGonagall wondered why I lobbied for a new team Captain..."

Madam Pomfrey trailed off, and though it'd been over a year since Harry had last seen Oliver Wood, he still felt some loyalty towards him and his methods, even though he also had no doubt that what Pomfrey said was true.

"Being a Quidditch Captain isn't easy work," he said, glancing over at Hermione, but she was looking so intently at Ron's injuries that he wondered if she knew there was a conversation going on here at all, "and while I'm happy you see me in a better light than Oliver, Ron's a close friend of mine. I've been friends with him long before either of us were even on the Quidditch team."

"I'm aware of this," she replied. "Nonetheless, I find it a refreshing change of pace compared to your predecessor. This sport leads to over half the injuries I need to take care of every year, and it's nice to every so often have a Captain like you. Ten points to Gryffindor."

She smiled and nodded at him.

"I have an injury report to file, now," she finished, glancing over the two of them, "and you've both been here enough times to know the rules. Miss Granger, if I come out in an hour and you still haven't taken that potion, I'll get you a bed and hold you at wand point until you do. I expect there'll be no trouble."

Nodding curtly to Hermione, who hadn't seemed to pay attention during her conversation with Harry, she walked to her office and shut the door behind her.

The second Madam Pomfrey left the room, Hermione grabbed the bottle from Ron's nightstand and pulled the cork out. Sniffing distastefully at it, she gulped down what seemed to be half the battle. She grimaced, then quickly finished it, and put the bottle back on the nightstand.

Harry walked over toward her to grab a chair, but felt awkward about doing it when she saw that Hermione had been holding Ron's hand, and probably had been since she had settled next to him.

"Uh, Hermione," he said, faltering to pull up the chair, "you didn't have a chance to talk to Ron about... Well, what you went out to talk about, did you?"

Hermione looked up at him, and Harry wondered if she'd been crying silently all this time as well.

"No," she sniffed, "I told you, he was already unconscious by the time I found him."

"Well," Harry said, placing his chair on the other side of Ron as a compromise, "then don't you think it might be a bit odd for Ron to wake up and find you holding his hand?"

"It'd be a conversation starter, at least," she said, and Harry knew that she wasn't likely to let go.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said finally, looking at Ron's right hand and wondering why, if Pomfrey healed it, it still looked as misshaped as it did. Silence between the two fell between them then, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence at all. It was the silence between two close friends when someone they loved was hurting and nether could do anything about it.

_Knowing Pomfrey, _Harry thought, looking over Ron one last time before checking his watch, which read 5:20, _Ron will be healed and out of here by Sunday, and though I'm not telling Hermione this, I doubt he's going to wake up in the next few hours._

Harry saw the door of the hospital wing open up, and was almost amused at how Hermione reluctantly let go of Ron's hand as she stood up and turned around to see who it was. Surprised, he saw Dean Thomas walk in, who eyed Harry awkwardly before closing the door behind him.

He walked toward Ron's bed until he was about five feet away, and then stopped to clear his throat and speak.

"Hey, Harry, Hermione," he began, nodding to them, "I know I'm not a, you know, big friend of Ron's, but seeing as I'm a substitute Chaser right now, I thought it'd show some good team spirit and moral support to drop by. How's he doing?"

Harry eyed him coolly, needing to remind himself that when Dean wasn't snogging Ginny, he was actually a pretty good bloke.

"He's healing," Harry said shortly, deciding to not get into a situation here, "two skull fractures, I think, which Pomfrey already patched up, and what seems to be a completely broken hand, which, oddly enough, doesn't looked patched up yet."

Dean nodded grimly, looking over Ron, and Harry had a specific question for him regarding Ginny, but thought it'd be better to phrase it as a more general one.

"Hey, where are the rest of my team to show 'team spirit and moral support?"

"Oh, well," Dead said, turning away embarrassed, "I tried to get the rest of them to come down, but they, well... Ron's been short with the team the past couple days, and I don't think many of them... have much desire to see how he's doing right now."

Harry wasn't terribly shocked to hear this, as he suspected this much, but he was surprised to hear Dean come out and say it so bluntly. Not only that, even though no one else came down, he did.

_I'd like Dean so much more right now if it wasn't for the fact he was dating Ginny_, Harry thought, a bit annoyed at the conflicted feelings he had towards Dean right now.

"Right," Harry said, putting his annoyance at Dean into annoyance at the rest of his Quidditch team, "I think I'll give a little talk on that before we start our practice tonight."

Dean nodded glumly, finally turning his head back to look at Harry.

"Also, I heard we'll be having McLaggen fill in for Ron until he gets better? I can't stand that guy..."

Harry let a small smile come to his face at this.

"Hey, he's on the team right now," he started, jokingly, "what happened to your 'team spirit'?"

Dean's eyes lit up as he chuckled for a second, and Harry decided that as long as he never saw Dean and Ginny snogging again, he could treat him like any normal bloke.

Dean stopped chuckling and sighed, looking back at Ron.

"I was also hoping," he said sadly, "that he was up so I could apologize for what happened a few days ago. I'm not going to apologize for being with Ginny; she's still my girlfriend. But I am sorry that Ron had to see it, as that must be hard for an older brother. And knowing Ginny, she probably said some harsh stuff to him, which might be why she's been crying in her dorm for the last thirty minutes, cuddling with Arnold."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione look up with a guilty expression on her face at this news, and Harry wondered once again what exactly happened between those two earlier today.

"Well, yeah, they had a bit of a row," Harry said, wanting to defend Ginny even though she did hit some extremely low blows on Ron, "but even if she didn't come down, I'm happy to hear she's sad he's injured. I'll tell you, it's more than what Ron would have expected."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "I hope the two of them make up soon, and I do hope Ron doesn't completely hate me for this."

Harry heard Hermione speak up for what seemed the first time in thirty minutes.

"I'm sure he doesn't," Hermione said, smiling at Dean, and Harry could tell her voice sounded a lot better than it had when she last spoke. "Yeah, he's a bit...harsh sometimes, but I'm sure he'd be glad you came down to see how he was doing."

Harry very much doubted this himself, personally, thinking the only thing Ron would have been glad about was if he had his wand on him so he could hex Dean, but decided it'd be unwise to comment this out loud.

Dean smiled back at Hermione, then spoke.

"Well, I'd best be off. Dinner's starting in," he stopped to check his watch, "thirty minutes, and I wanted to try to cheer Ginny up before we went down. I hope Ron gets better soon. Bye Harry, Hermione."

He nodded to both of them then turned and walked out of the room, and at the mention of dinner, Harry's stomach grumbled. He didn't eat a lot at lunch, mostly nervous about how he was going to approach Hermione about Ron, so he was right starving now, and it'd certainly do no good to confront the team on an empty stomach.

Looking at Hermione, he decided he'd be better off not asking if she'd wanted to head down to the Great Hall with him, as she already was holding Ron's hand again and had even rested her head on Ron's chest. Harry actually thought she looked rather peaceful, more peaceful than he'd seen her in days, actually, though he still couldn't help worry about Ron's reaction if he woke up to find Hermione this way.

"Uh, Hermione," he started, slowing moving around Ron's bed and backing his way towards the hospital wing doors, "I'm going to head down to dinner. I'd suggest you eat sometime tonight, even if it's not until later. If Ron wakes up, tell him... Well, I guess you'll be busy with your own stuff. See you later, Hermione."

He heard her say goodbye softly, and he wondered of that throat-soothing potion had any side-effects that caused drowsiness, as it might led to an awkward conversation with Madam Pomfrey if she walked out to find Hermione sleeping where she was.

Walking to the Great Hall, Harry started to consider what exactly he'd be saying to his team before practice started tonight. He was grateful that Dean had come down, at least, and he knew that Katie would have done the same if she'd still been here, even if it was just more out of friendship with Harry than liking of Ron's Keeping ability.

He was a bit disappointed that no one else showed up, but Dean had been right: Ron had, for good or bad, been a jerk to them recently, and it didn't help that he still wasn't an absolutely immaculate Keeper.

Harry got to the Grand Staircase and started to head down along with the throng of other students, still considering how exactly he could berate his team without getting them so annoyed that they'd lose the match tomorrow.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey looked up at her clock, which read 6:30. She had heard Harry leave around forty minutes ago, but even though dinnertime would be over in the next fifteen minutes, she still hadn't heard Hermione leave.

_This has always been my least favorite part of this job,_ she thought as she stood up from her desk, sighing. Walking out of her office and glancing at her patient, she saw automatically why Hermione hadn't left for dinner yet.

_Minerva never said that they were together_, she thought, watching Hermione's head rise and fall with the movement of Ron's chest, her closed eyes, using her bushy hair as a pillow. _Guess I shouldn't be surprised, seeing how she was acting while I was working on him, and how often I see the two of them in here together._

She saw the empty bottle on Ron's nightstand and walked silently over to pick it up, certainly not wanted to disturb Hermione now.

_I should have warned her that this would make her drowsy, but I knew it wouldn't make a difference to her either way._

Looking down at the couple, Madam Pomfrey smiled. Of course, this was hardly the first time she'd caught people together while under her care, and she considered it a bit of patient confidentially to not bring it up with any Head of House. Considering what she'd caught other students doing in these beds, this was certainly minor, and rather cute, at that.

_Oh, I'm a hopeless romantic at heart, aren't I, _she thought, drawing the curtains around the two so they could have privacy if someone else walked in.

Glancing around to the other side of the room, she walked over and picked on Ron's broomstick and wand, which she'd keep in her office until he woke up. Smiling while thinking about how her hand was still next to Ron's even in sleep, Madam Pomfrey started humming softly as she walked back to her office.

* * *

The night was chilly, and considering how the day had been, Harry wasn't the least bit surprised to find this out. _I only hope the weather's a hell of a lot better tomorrow_, he thought grimly, carrying his Firebolt on his shoulder while walking to the pitch.

Professor McGonagall had cornered him just ten minutes ago, right as he was about to head out, and asked him about Ron's solo Keeper training. She was under the belief that the Slytherin team had sabotaged the Quaffle Ron had been playing with, as she and Madam Hooch had detected another Charm on the Quaffle besides Ron's, and she wanted to know if he, as team Captain, had seen if hostilities escalated between the two teams recently.

While Harry appreciated McGonagall's train of thought, and he too was curious to know how Ron had gotten so badly injured while practicing, McGonagall seemed to be forgetting that the entire Slytherin team was usually quite happy to play against Ron, as they all considered him a sub-par Keeper. He had no doubt that Malfoy would call it a plain waste of sabotage if confronted about it.

Walking into the locker room, he saw the rest of the team getting ready for practice, though McLaggen already look done with changing, a smug smile on his face as he chatted with Ritchie.

"Hey, guys", Harry started, wanting to get their attention before he started changing, "we're going to be having a small talk about _team spirit_ before we head out there tonight."

No one said anything, but as Harry turned around, he heard someone, quite possibly Jimmy, start to chuckle, and Harry knew that this was probably going to be his harshest speech to the team.

Harry got his Quidditch robes on, though he left a sweater on underneath so he wouldn't freeze, then turned back to the team, who were situated on the main bench of the room. Dean was on the far-left, followed by Ginny, who, Harry noticed, looked a bit tired and red at the eyes.

_She is having one hell of a day_, he thought, considering that her only brother left at Hogwarts was in the hospital wing and the presumably loud telling off she got from Hermione.

Sitting on her right was Demelza, who also seemed concerned about Ginny's state from the way her eyes seemed to question Dean from across Ginny. Cormac was flanked by Jimmy and Ritchie, who were laughing from some crude joke he had just finished. Harry was a bit annoyed to see how well they already seemed to get together.

"Oi," Harry said loudly, getting the team's attention, "so, before we head out there, team spirit. Does anyone here know what team spirit is?"

Harry was happy to see that while no one answered, Ginny and Demelza looked a bit guilty. Dean didn't answer, but Harry didn't begrudge him for that. The fact that he came down to check on Ron was enough to get him back in Harry's good graces, and he hadn't expected him to out himself to the team as the one decent guy there, especially when they knew he tried to get them to visit Ron with him anyways. Harry suspected that Dean would take this talk quietly, knowing it wasn't meant for him. The rest of the team looked decidedly bored.

"Team spirit," Harry continued, remembering the definition McGonagall gave him when he told her his plans, "is the camaraderie between members of a group that leads them to work well together, or so McGonagall said when I asked earlier."

Harry saw Jimmy mouthing the word 'camaraderie' with a confused expression on his face, and Harry just shook his head.

"That's what McGonagall said team spirit meant," Harry continued, making sure they were paying attention. "What I say it means is that when a member of the team gets injured, the team _fuckin' shows up_ to see how their injured teammate is doing!"

Harry was happy to see the startled reaction in the team from this, and continued.

"Not one of you bloody people showed up at the hospital wing to see how Ron was doing, save Dean," Harry said, nodding at him, "and quite honestly, that makes me sick! Ron is a valued member of this team, and-"

"'Valued," Cormac chuckled, causing Harry to almost see red. "He's the most worthless member of this team."

"Oi, he managed to beat you in the Keeper tryouts, Cormac," Harry spat at him venomously, "so what's that make you to this team, exactly?"

Cormac reddened with anger at Harry's retort, but didn't say anything in return.

"I cannot explain how disgusted I am right now," Harry continued in a hard voice. "Ron is your teammate. He could do with your support, not dismissal. I know he's been a bit of a jerk these past few days, but that doesn't mean you can just ignore him. Furthermore, have any of you considered he might be a bit of a better player if his own team actually had confidence in him? As it is, we still don't know what happened to him, exactly, but McGonagall suspects Slytherin sabotage, and-"

"They wouldn't waste a sabotage on Weasley, considering he's the worst-"

"CORMAC, ONE MORE WORD AND GRYFFINDOR WILL BE PLAYING WITHOUT A KEEPER TOMORROW!"

That silenced Cormac, though he looked mutinous.

"Right," Harry breathed heavily, "we're going out to practice, and I hope it goes well. I hope we kick Slytherin ass tomorrow, but I will still count this as a personal failure for this team."

He glared at them all for a second, then grabbed his Firebolt and indicated they follow him out. He was really not looking forward to this practice.

* * *

Hermione slowing opened her eyes, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand when she realized where she was laying. Jerking up, she quickly looked to see if Ron had woken up and noticed, but he still seemed completely out.

Sighing, Hermione didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed. Certainly this conversation with Ron would go easier if he saw exactly how she felt about him, and her laying on him like that would certainly go a way towards showing that. However, he could also have freaked out, and Hermione didn't want to risk that at all.

Glancing up, she noticed that someone, presumably Madam Pomfrey, had pulled the curtains around the bed to give herself and Ron more privacy, and Hermione blushed at the thought of being seen like that by her. Getting up slowly, Hermione glanced at her watch and almost fainted. It was fifteen minutes until curfew, and that meant that Hermione had been resting her head on Ron for the past three or so hours!

Looking guilty, Hermione shuffled out from behind the curtains surrounding Ron's bed, and nearly jumped when she heard the door to Madam Pomfrey's office open.

"Ah, you're awake now," she smiled at her, guessing by the deep blush on her face that she wasn't accustomed to being so public about her feelings. "I'm glad. I wasn't looking forward to disturbing you myself to get you up. As you might or might not know, curfew is coming up. And I'm sorry to say you missed dinner."

Hermione nodded, head down, trying to hide her blushed face from Madam Pomfrey.

"It's not the first time I've missed a meal," she said quietly, then she looked up at Pomfrey "and I'm sorry about sleeping here like that, I-"

Madam Pomfrey held up a hand to stop her.

"Miss Granger, you have nothing to be sorry for," she said kindly. "I've been caring for the students of Hogwarts for over twenty-five years now, and what you were doing with Mr. Weasley is nothing to be embarrassed about. I count it as a part of patient confidentiality, and no one need know. I must say, it was one of the cuter displays I've seen from a couple in some years."

"Oh, we aren't a couple," Hermione said quickly. "I-he-doesn't know that I-"

"Ah, I see," Madam Pomfrey replied knowingly, "is that, by any chance, why you went out to the Quidditch Pitch in the first place, to talk to him about it?"

Hermione nodded, embarrassed despite when Pomfrey had just said.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I am going to have to ask you to leave now," Madam Pomfrey said softly. "Normal hospital wing visiting hours start at 8 a.m., but if you happen to come down any time after 6, I'd be happy to let you in. I'm guessing Mr. Weasley will awake sometime in the night, and while no strenuous activity can be allowed, I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to talk to him in private."

Hermione was still blushing, but she looked up and smiled at Madam Pomfrey.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said gratefully. "I-I appreciate it a lot."

She walked over to Ron and gave his left hand a small squeeze, and with a quick look at Madam Pomfrey, dashed quietly out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Walking quickly to the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione didn't really want to think about the day's events. She had plucked up the courage to finally talk to Ron (well, forced into the issue by Ginny, more like, but still), and it just so happened that it was at the same time he sustained an injury that knocked him out for half a day.

Hermione could have laughed at her luck if it hadn't been for the fact that the image of him crumpled on the Quidditch pitch, blood all over, was still in her mind. She had slept well just then, but she figured that had to do with the throat potion and being close to Ron. She didn't think she'd be as lucky tonight when it came to sleep.

Speaking the password, Dilligrout, the portrait of the Fat Lady opened, and Hermione climbed her way to the Common Room.

There was activity all around, but she did a once over, and made a beeline for Harry, who was sitting slouched at the same table they talked at earlier today, which seemed to Hermione to be more like a hundred years ago.

"Hey," Harry said, grinning at Hermione as she sat down at the table, "get some good sleep?"

"Oh, shut it," Hermione said, blushing, but she was smiling as well. "If you actually care to know, yes, it was nice. And peaceful."

"I don't suppose Ron ever woke up?"

"No," Hermione said, "but Madam Pomfrey said he'd probably wake up sometime in the middle of the night, and gave me permission for early visitation so I could see him in private."

"And why did she do that," Harry asked curiously.

"We..."

Hermione either couldn't or wouldn't do the story justice, it seemed, as she finished her sentence with 'talked'.

They sat together quietly for a minute, then Hermione asked Harry how the Quidditch practice with Cormac went.

Harry opened his mouth, but no obvious word for the abomination that took place hours ago seemed to come to mind, so he just closed his mouth again and shook his head. He tried again seconds later, and words actually came out.

"If it wasn't for the fact that our Chasers aren't half-bad and catching the Snitch gets 150 points," Harry said sadly, "we'd lose to Slytherin by 300 points."

Hermione nodded, though she figured she'd miss the match tomorrow, considering it took place in the morning. If she got her wish, which she shouldn't automatically count on, she learned, she was going to spend the morning with Ron in the hospital wing, and he was finally going to learn how she felt.

Getting up, Hermione wished Harry a good game tomorrow, and walked up to her dorm to try to sleep through the night.


	4. Chapter Four: Quidditch and Questions

First, I want to everyone for their reviews to my third chapter. I will always send a personal thank you message when possible, but I'll always have a public thank you, as I'm still getting use to receiving comments on my story, and I'm grateful for everyone I get, so really, thanks, guys.

To publicly address some ideas, about Ron's level of friendliness. Yes, compared to Harry, I'd agree that Ron is more friendly, but I've never gotten the distinction that he was terribly close to Seamus, Dean, Neville, or any of the girls his year. His best friends are Harry and Hermione, and I personally never felt he had all that many others, though those are just my thoughts on that.

Once again, my favorite Guest encapsulates my exact feelings regarding what I'm writing about, and I'll know that I've published a sub-par chapter once she says she disliked it, lol.

I wanted to add that I'm sorry I don't seem to have a consistent chapter length. I write to where I think is a good chapter ending, and as you can see, they vary wildly. I can't promise 9,000 word chapters every time, people, and I'm sorry about that.

Oh, and happy holidays, people. Hope you guys have a great day, and sorry for the wait on this chapter.

Lastly, I, of course, do not own these characters. That'd be the most excellent J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Quidditch and Questions**

There was a dim light shining through his eyelids, but that wasn't what awoke Ron Weasely as he struggled into consciousness. What awoke him were the flames of pain burning in his right hand.

Moaning, Ron forced his eyes open to see what he thought appeared to be the hospital wing, though it was slightly dark, so he couldn't be sure. Winging it, mostly because the pain refused to be ignored, he called out.

"Madam Pomfrey," he croaked, and was alarmed to hear his voice was extremely rough, and he wondered what time it was. Had he been out for hours or days?

He heard a shuffling outside his curtains and a harried Pomfrey walked in.

"Ah, you're awake," she said, eyes glancing at his face, which was strained in pain. "Take this. It won't taste good, but I can assure you that you'll want something to numb the pain."

He clumsily used his left hand to grab the small bottle that Madam Pomfrey was holding out, and swallowed it in one gulp. It burned on the way down his throat, reminding him of the Firewhisky Fred and George shared with him in secret last summer, though without the fun aftereffects. Ron did, however, enjoy the fact that his right hand almost instantly became numb, though the pain wasn't completely gone.

After Madam Pomfrey grabbed the empty bottle back from Ron, she handed him a nice, cool glass of water that felt like heaven as it poured down Ron's throat, slightly diminishing the burning sensation and stopping his mouth from feeling as dry as a desert.

"That's much better, Madam Pomfrey," Ron said gratefully, placing the now half-empty glass on the bedside table awkwardly with his left hand, then he looked around the room. "What time is it? What happened? I remember the Quaffle-"

"The Quaffle in question," Madam Pomfrey said, cutting Ron off, though softly, "is currently in the possession of Madam Hooch, who is examining it to see what went wrong. If I'm not mistaken, Professor McGonagall suspects Slytherin sabotage, though it'll be almost impossible to prove. She'll want to talk to you about it later today."

Ron nodded his head glumly, and while he was happy McGonagall's first thought was seemingly Slytherin interference and not him messing up the spell himself, he still couldn't help feeling embarrassed about the event. _Me, the Gryffindor Keeper, gets injured and knocked out during a fuckin' solo practice. Oh, the school's going to be laughing for months._

This thought brought a flood of questions to Ron, though he decided he'd try to stay calm and ask them one by one.

"What time and day is it," he asked, not sure what answer he was looking for. On one hand, if it was after the Quidditch match with Slytherin, he'd forgo the embarrassment of sitting in here and listening to the commentary of the match he was suppose to be playing in. And if the match hadn't happened yet, he knew it made no difference, because there was no way in hell Madam Pomfrey would ever consider letting him play in it.

"It's Saturday, the 2nd, and it's currently," Madam Pomfrey looked around the curtains, most certainly to a clock somewhere in the hospital wing, "2:04 am. And to forgo an obvious question, no, Mr. Weasley, I cannot permit you to play in the Quidditch match later today."

Ron had expected this, but still, he couldn't believe that the Gryffindor Keeper had stupidly injured himself while practicing solo. He knew that even if the Slytherin Quidditch team was found out to have been behind it, that wouldn't be talked about as much compared to just a bad Keeper who knocked himself out with a Quaffle. And now he was going to have to endure laying here in the hospital wing while the match was going on outside. He couldn't believe his luck.

"Who ended up visiting me today," he asked anxiously, wondering if a certain bushy-haired girl had been here at all. Considering the way he'd treated her recently, he doubted it.

"I believe Mr. Potter almost broke his arm running here after he had heard you were injured," Madam Pomfrey started, shaking her head slightly, "and if I'm not mistaken, Mr. Thomas stopped by for a few minutes to check how you were doing."

"Dean," Ron asked, incredulously. _What the hell was Dean, the guy who is currently snogging my sister in every part of the castle he can get away with, visiting me for?_

"Yes. Oh, and of course," she began, a smile coming to her face, "Miss Granger, who was the one who found you in the first place, and was able to hold herself together well enough that she got you here without doing anymore damage to you. In fact, she stayed by your side until curfew came up."

Ron didn't really know what to think about this piece of information. He'd been horrible to Hermione these past few days. _Well, to be fair, I've been horrible to everyone, but that doesn't make me feel any better about how I've treated her. Why was she here for that long? Damn, if I had just woken up earlier, I could have been able to come clean with how I'm feeling, and get some answers about what exactly she was saying during Herbology about the Christmas party._

Ron shook his head, hoping he'd have some alone time with Hermione so he could clarify what the invite actually was, and, if things went well, tell her how he felt about her. Of course, he'd need to pluck up his courage to do that. _Wonder if Pomfrey has any Firewhisky lying around..._

Getting back to himself, he finished off his questions.

"Right, do you know who is suppose to replace me as Keeper today? And," Ron's eyes grew wide as he remembered his Cleansweep, "my broom! Did someone grab my broom?"

"Easy, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, seeing that he was trying to get up from the bed. "Miss Granger took care to grab your broom and wand, and neither appear to be damaged. And if I heard Professor McGonagall correctly, Mr. McLaggen will be filling in as Keeper. Now, if you're done with your inquires, I do have an examination to perform."

Ron nodded quietly, and laid quietly as Madam Pomfrey went about taking his temperature, checking his heart-rate, and shining a light into his eyes that almost blinded him. He was extremely glum about the prospect of Cormac filling in for him today. Not that he didn't think he was up to the job. On the contrary, he was extremely worried that Cormac would impress the rest of the team so much that Harry would be forced to keep him as the main Keeper.

"Now," she said, finishing up the initial exam, "is there any pain at all in your hand? The potion I gave you should have taken complete effect by now."

Ron was surprised, as he'd forgotten his hand was still injured. He couldn't even feel his right arm, and told Pomfrey as much.

"Good, because this would be extremely painful, and even now, some pain might slip through," she warned, starting to unwrap the bandage around his hand. "In fact, I'd suggest you look away while I do this. Your hand... Well, let's just say you don't need to watch."

Ron nodded, and looked lazily to his left when he felt what seemed like the bones in his hand grinding together. He let out a sharp gasp.

"Stay still, Mr. Weasley," she said, giving his turned away face a quick glance before returning to her work, "this is a delicate process that you wouldn't want to mess up."

"Why," Rom grimaced, gritting his teeth through pain he was sure would be a hundred times worse without the potion he was given, "did you have to do this now, when I'm awake, and not earlier when I wouldn't have felt it?"

"Mr. Weasley," she scoffed, not disregarding the pain he was in but still slightly annoyed he saw to question her treatment, "if you think for a second that you'd not have felt me healing your hand while you were unconscious, you can drop that thought. Without the potion I gave you to drink, you'd be screaming loud enough to wake half the castle at this moment. If I had forgone the potion and attempted this earlier, I have no doubt you'd have woken up screaming and climbing on the walls. Also, I prefer to let my patients who sustain head injuries regain consciousness on their own time. Jarring you awake could have caused some serious brain injuries."

Ron sat quietly through this explanation, partly because he knew he'd start swearing if he opened his mouth, as the pain was really getting to him, and partly because he'd rather have stayed unconscious in the hospital wing for a month than risk any brain damage, especially after seeing the state of Neville's parents last Christmas in St Mungo's.

"There," Madam Pomfrey said, sounding satisfied, and Ron noticed the pain had stopped. His hand still had a sore ache, but it was nothing compared to how it felt ten seconds ago. He risked a glance at his right hand, and was pleased to see it looked in order, though he noticed three scars that hadn't been there before.

"I'd strongly advise against using that hand for the next twelve hours," she said, standing up straight. "It'll still be sore. As for any potential brain injuries you may have incurred, I'm reasonably sure that you'll be fine on that front. You know where you are, who I am, and what you were doing before the incident. I'd say you got off easy. A fall from a broom can do a lot of damage if it's bad enough, sometimes irreversible damage."

"I don't suppose you could discharge me early so I can attend the match," Ron asked quickly, pretty sure what the response was going to be. Though he didn't look forward to watching McLaggen's performance, it'd have been better than lying here and hearing the praises through the window.

"Certainly not, Mr. Weasley," and though she looked slightly stern, Ron noticed that her eyes seemed to be smiling. "Not only do I want you to get some good bed rest that isn't a result of you falling from a broom, I believe you will have a morning visitor to look forward to."

Before Ron could ask exactly who she thought would get up early on a Saturday morning just to come down and see him, Madam Pomfrey continued to speak.

"Now, if that's all, Mr. Weasley, I shall go retire to my office. Of course, if you need anything, don't hesitate you call for me. Goodnight and good dreams, Mr. Weasley."

Ron was flummoxed at the sight of a small smile on Pomfrey's face before she turned to walk away. Ron wanted desperately to think hard about this, but he was starting to feel drowsy, and he wanted to attend to his hand. Holding it up in front of his face in the dim light, he saw that it looked just like normal, except for the scars he'd noticed before. Ignoring Pomfrey's wishes, he flexed his pointer finger a bit, and a sliver of pain shot down his arm.

Ron sighed, and gingerly laid his right arm on the cool sheets of his bed. Morning visitor or not, Ron hoped he would sleep straight through the game. He had absolutely no desire to hear whatever new replacement commentator they'd gotten to replace Lee Jordan praise McLaggen's Keeper performance, which is exactly what he thought was going to happen.

Awkwardly grabbing his half-full glass of water with his left hand again, he drank it down slowly. It wasn't as cool as when he'd first been handed it, but it was still nice to keep his throat hydrated. Placing it down again, now with only a little puddle at the bottom, Ron's stomach grumbled. Frowning, Ron realized that he hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and that was over twelve hours ago. Regardless, he was tired, and he didn't much care for the idea of getting Madam Pomfrey just so she could get him something to eat.

Deciding to just wait a few hours until whatever breakfast she'd serve, Ron closed his eyes to slumber, and he started snoring not five minutes after.

* * *

The sun wasn't up when Hermione Granger open her eyes. She'd not gotten terribly restful sleep, as she feared would be the case. She woke up not three hours after originally going to bed, the dream of Ron's broken body on the Quidditch pitch causing her to jolt awake. She'd apparently been crying during that dream, as her pillow was a bit damp in a spot. Flipping it over, she forced herself to go to sleep again after seeing it was only 1 a.m.

Her second dream of the night was of a much more pleasant nature, also involving Ron, but with a bit less clothes on than Hermione had ever seen him in before. A bit groggy still, Hermione had to stifle a groan once she realized her right hand was lying, not on the bed as it usually did, but on top of her pajama bottoms. Confirming her suspicions, she rubbed her fingers together, and found them a bit sticky.

_Oh come on_, she thought, sitting up, hoping none of her dorm mates were awake yet, blushing a deep red, _I can't believe this. Ron's lying in the hospital wing, and I was busy touching myself while dreaming about him?_

Sighing, she flipped her sheets to the other side of the bed and stood up, doing her best to be silent about it. Grabbing her wand from the nightstand, she muttered a quick cleaning spell at where her lower body had just been. Grabbing two towels, clean undergarments and robes, and her shower supplies, she stalked off towards the showers.

_I didn't even check what time it was, I was so distracted_, she thought, placing her clean clothes at the end of the bench that lined the left hand of the room. _Not like it matters. I have got to get myself cleaned up, and I'd rather stay up and read in the common room than risk having that happen again._

Stripping off her pajamas, not even daring to glance at the state of her knickers, she threw them in a pile under the bench, and, making sure her towels were hanging where she could reach them from the shower, she stepped in and closed the curtain.

Turning the water to a calm and steamy temperature, she couldn't help but think about her second dream. This had not been the first time she'd dreamed of Ron in this way; those hark back to her third year at Hogwarts, though she didn't admit to herself it was Ron she was dreaming about until her fourth year.

As for conscious masturbation, well, that started after she'd realized who kept getting her so worked up as she slept. She knew it was natural for girls her age, but she still felt extremely embarrassed about the fact that she'd deal with her urges before going to sleep and then had to face Ron the next morning, as though they were nothing more than friends. It was rather stressful, especially when she could never bring herself to think of Viktor the same way, but she had gotten a hang of it by the end of the year.

Rubbing copious amounts of shampoo into her hair, knowing it was still going to look as bushy as always once it had dried, Hermione decided to get her mind out of the gutter and figure out how she was going to talk to Ron this morning.

Madam Pomfrey assured them privacy, which Hermione was extremely grateful for, but it'd be a lot different approaching Ron, who'd been knocked out in a hospital bed for half a day, than approaching a Ron who was just practicing Keeping, as normal.

She didn't know how exactly to start the conversation off. The slightly ominous, "Ron, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for three years"? The beating-around-the-bush comment of, "Harry told me what Ginny said to you, and I've already told her that if she did it again, I'd curse her"? Much more direct and crass than that, "Ron, I love you, and I make myself cum thinking about you"?

Hermione figured the last two were jumping the gun a bit, and that Ron would have a heart attack if she used the third one. As for the second, she was a little anxious to tell Ron what she'd said to Ginny. Most people would be happy that someone stood up for them, but most people weren't as emotionally touchy as Ron was. It was very possible, Hermione reckoned, that Ron would either be embarrassed or angry about her interfering in what he probably considered a normal, sibling dispute.

These thoughts rushed through Hermione's mind much like the warm water washed over her body, and Hermione concluded that she'd try to figure out Ron's mood before deciding which route to go with. Turning the water off, Hermione grabbed for one of the towels hanging outside the shower, drying herself off as quickly as she could, now hearing the slight shuffling of one of her roommates.

_Probably Parvati, considering the others hardly make it up for breakfast during the week, let alone whatever time it is now._

Getting dressed as quickly as possible, keeping her eyes on the door, Hermione had just finished clasping her robes together when Parvati walked in, carrying her shower stuff as well. Looking bleary eyed, she nodded to Hermione as she headed for the shower furthest from the entrance. Hermione grabbed her wet towels and her dirty clothes and walked back to her bed, throwing them all in the hamper the house-elves tended to everyday.

Picking up her watch, she checked the time, and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was 6:15. For a second she had to fight the urge to go straight to the hospital wing to see if Ron was awake yet, but considering she'd missed dinner last night, she thought it'd be wiser to go down to breakfast first.

_Fat lot of good it'll actually do me, _she thought, snapping the watch onto her wrist, _I'm already nervous, and I'll just get more nervous the closer I get to talking to Ron. How am I suppose to eat when I feel it's a good possibility I'll just throw it up after finishing?_

Hermione made her bed quickly, wondering if she should just go straight to Ron after all, but as she was pretty hungry, she'd risk the breakfast first. Finishing with her bed, she quickly put her shoes on, and walked out the door and down the stairs to the common room. Her heart leapt in her stomach as she saw a red-haired head resting on the arm of the long couch, but settled as she saw it was just Ginny.

_Of course it's not Ron,_ she thought, disapproving of her small flight of fancy, _Madam Pomfrey would feed him to the giant squid before discharging him in the middle of the night._

She walked around the couch as quietly as she could to look at Ginny. She was wearing her pajamas, and it looked like she had cried herself to sleep. Hermione felt a pang of pity for the girl.

_Even if she deserved it, I never would have yelled at her if I knew Ron was going to end up in the hospital wing. No matter what arguments they got into, no matter what was said, Ron is still her older brother, and it's obvious from this reaction that Ginny is hurt that Ron was in the hospital wing._

While Hermione was still angry about what Ginny had said, the anger lighten a bit as she watched the youngest Weasley child sleeping on the couch. Turning away, she walked down the steps to the portrait and left the common room, trying her hardest to ignore the butterflies that had started fluttering in her stomach.

* * *

Ron had just finished the breakfast Madam Pomfrey had brought out to him, and was about to ask, tactfully, of course, if he could have a bit more when he heard a noise at the door of the hospital wing. Glancing toward it, he saw the handle turning slightly, but the door wasn't opening.

"Oh, silly me," Madam Pomfrey said, and walked over to the door and unlocking it.

Ron couldn't see who it was once Pomfrey opened the door, considering she was blocking his view, but his heart leapt when he saw a flash of poofy brown hair, and his thought was confirmed by Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, since I rarely allow visitors this early, I forgot to unlock the door," she said apologetically, and Ron wondered why, if this was the case, Hermione was being allowed in at this hour in the first place. "Please, come in, come in."

She turned around and started heading to Ron's bed as Hermione entered the room behind her, eyes automatically finding Ron, and she gave a slight smile. Rom smiled back, but considering his more-than-friends feelings towards her lately, he was starting to feel a bit nervous and self-conscious.

Madam Pomfrey grabbed his food tray from him and headed back to her office, shutting the door behind her, and leaving an awkward silence of five seconds.

If Ron hadn't been told by Pomfrey that he hadn't received a brain injury, he'd have thought it was the case, because Hermione almost looked like she wanted to throw herself on him and was only just restraining herself. Her face also looked flushed, and Ron started to wonder if she was coming down with something.

"Hi, Ron," she said, pulling up a chair to sit on his left side, "how're you doing? How's your hand?"

"Hey, Hermione," he said, deciding to be cautious until he found out what was up with her. "My hand's mostly fine, though it's still bloody sore. I also have some new scars that'll go well with the scars on my arms."

He held out his right hand so she could see, and he almost jumped when Hermione held out her index finger and started tracing one of them. It felt like an electric shock, her touch, and while he thought he'd contained his feelings well, Hermione jerked her hand back, apologizing and asking if she'd hurt his hand anymore.

"No, no, it's fine," he muttered, looking over her left shoulder to avoid contact with her brown eyes, hoping she didn't know what her touch had made him feel.

There was another few seconds of silence, then they both started talking at once.

"Ron, I-"

"Why are-"

They both stopped, and Ron let out a small laugh.

"Okay, Hermione, you first."

"Ron, I-I wanted to talk to you about something," she began, face blushing, and Ron for the life of him couldn't figure out what was up with her. "Madam Pomfrey told you that it was me who found you on the pitch?"

"Yeah, she did, and before you continue, thank you, Hermione. I know I much prefer it here than lying in that bloody-"

"Language, Ron," Hermione interrupted, though without the usual annoyance that came along with this admonishment. In fact, she looked rather happy at his thanks.

"Well, I was going to tell you this yesterday," she continued, "but then I found you in the state you were in, so..."

She trailed off and looked away from Ron for a second, and if it wasn't for the fact that Ron generally sucked at figuring out emotions through voice tone, he'd have thought she was almost crying.

_Of course she was almost crying! One close friend finds another close friend injured, that's what they do!_ This thought, however, didn't extinguish his hope that perhaps there was more to it than that to her. Mostly, though, she wanted her to move on to the point before he completely lost all the courage he'd built up during his very exciting dreams of Hermione earlier.

"What did you want to talk about yesterday," he asked, trying his hardest to keep any unnatural tone of hope out of his voice.

"I-I," she stuttered, and she looked as though she'd decided Ron's hair color was a good look for her face, "I-oh, this is harder than I thought it'd be."

"Ron, it's come to my attention over these past few years that certain feelings I have towards you are more than what I have for any other friend," she said slowing, trying to sound composed, though her eyes were closed while she spoke. "I-I can't be sure, considering I'm never felt this feeling before, but I think that-"

"Wait, Hermione," Ron almost shouted, startling her eyes open, "are you saying that you... That your invitation to Slughorn's party was as more than friends?"

Hermione nodded, a bit annoyed she hadn't made her intentions more clear when she brought it up to Ron during that Herbology lesson.

"Yes, Ron, I was," Hermione sighed, trying to get a grip on the conversation before it completely flew off the rails, "in my own way, asking you out, and I regret I didn't make it more clear to you then."

Ron was shell-shocked. _Is Hermione actually telling me the same exact thing that I wanted to tell her? _Ron's initial feeling was that he should laugh in relief, but he knew there was no way Hermione would take that well. In fact, Hermione looked like she was downright Petrified while waiting for Ron's immediate reaction.

"Hermione, I," he started, annoyed at how his voice was choking up. He glanced quickly at her right hand, just resting on the bed next to his left, and if he wasn't so afraid of making a wrong move, he'd reach out and grab it. "I-blimey, this is bloody hard, isn't it? I feel the same way about you, and while I didn't realize it until this summer, I've... fuck. I've loved you since our fourth year, and I've been an absolute prat for waiting this long to tell you."

Ron turned away, not caring that Hermione had basically admitted the same thing not a minute ago. He was terrified at what her reaction would be. She didn't say love. Had he been too blunt? Would she not take it seriously because he was lying in a hospital bed after having been unconscious for half a day, and perhaps not in his right mind? He looked back over quickly to gauge her reaction, and was slightly startled to see that she was crying and getting up.

_Blimey, what did I-_

"Language, Ron," she said, her voice shaky, and she leaned in to kiss Ron.

Yes, it was clumsy. Yes, she was crying, which he'd mocked Harry for when talking about Harry's experience last year with Cho. Yes, he had just been knocked out in the hospital wing for half a day and had his hand mauled. All of that was true, but none of it mattered. It was a perfect kiss.

* * *

Harry looked out the window of the dorm at the still-dark sky. _Damn, I hate winter. We get, what, eight hours of daylight?_

He knew he was being over-dramatic, but he thought it was better thinking about the lack of daylight than about everything else that had been whirling through his head the past thirty minutes.

He had meant it as a way to make his speech more impressive, but Harry actually did feel sick thinking about his Quidditch team at the moment. Not only was he angry they hadn't paid Ron a visit, he was also sad about it. He knew that Ron hadn't always played his best, but he was hoping that his team could look past that and stand up for him. It wouldn't have been so hard if a few people from last years' team had stayed at Hogwarts, but Katie was the only member left besides Harry, and she was still, as far as Harry knew, badly injured at St Mungo's.

_Ron may not have done it single-handedly last year_, Harry thought fiercely, _but he did help Gryffindor win that final match against Ravenclaw. Does that count for nothing with my current team?_

He hadn't told Hermione, knowing her mind was still on a certain ginger friend of theirs, but Harry had heard the discontent muttering of some on his team while walking back from the disastrous practice they'd had last night. Somehow, Jimmy and Ritchie didn't see Cormac in the same light Harry did, and he figured it was partly because they also didn't see Ron in the same light he did.

He really wanted to beat Malfoy down today. Perhaps not as much as he wanted to convince Ron and Hermione that he was a Death Eater, but still, the point remained. Could he do it with a team as broken as it seemed now? A distracted Seeker, arrogant prick Keeper, depressed Chaser and two Beaters who seemed to mis-aim every Bludger they hit last night oddly close to Harry's position?

The complete dismantling and reformation of the Gryffindor team would probably help the team issues, but besides the fact that the entire school would be gossiping about the complete collapse of Harry's hand-picked team, he didn't know if such a thing was even allowed. Would McGonagall even keep him as team Captain if he brought it up? True, it was stressful and annoying sometimes, but Professor McGonagall had trusted him with this, knowing what he'd went through last year, and to Harry, that said a lot about her, all of it good.

Besides the Quidditch disaster, Harry also had Ron and Hermione to worry about. Harry knew that Ron liked Hermione, perhaps longer than Ron would care to know about. Hermione might as well admitted her feelings about Ron in a hundred different ways over in the last two years, for all the good it did to attract Ron's attention. So he had no doubt that if they got through that conversation, not like he even wanted to imagine it, they would get together, and fast, considering that outside the castle walls, a war was happening.

There was always the chance such a relationship would fail, though, and Harry had no idea what he'd do in that situation. They'd had massive rows before, and he'd never forget their third year, but that hadn't been about their feelings towards each other insofar as you could disconnect that from their rows. If they got together and broke up, how the hell would they still be able to remain friends with Harry? Would Harry forever be stuck as someone who just had to live with the fact that his best friends couldn't stay in the same room together for two seconds?

Not only that, but what if they didn't break up? What if they were able to fight though their problems and come out stronger for it, and together? He'd still be the outsider, and could he stand the sappy sight of them holding hands and whatever else whenever they were discussing something while he still had to only have Ginny in his dreams?

He knew Hermione's nature would generally make her cautious to upset Harry with any such feelings, but considering Hermione's been waiting on Ron for years, Harry reckoned, could she resist the temptation to touch Ron whenever and however she could, to make sure he wasn't just a dream or mirage that would fade with time?

As for his feelings on Ginny, he wasn't quite sure what to do, which, considering his current train of thought, shouldn't have shocked him. Whatever he wanted to be the case, Ginny was dating Dean, and it was therefore Dean's job to help Ginny out of her slump, not Harry's. Well, mostly Dean's job, anyway. Harry could still help as a friend, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a crying Ginny in his arms, especially when considering that Ginny barely got weepy, and his entire relationship with Cho revolved around tears, it seemed.

These thoughts rumbling through Harry's head, he almost didn't notice an already dressed Dean heading out of the dorm. Looking at his watch, Harry was shocked to see that it was almost seven. Seeing he had less than one-and-a-half hours before the game today, Harry started getting prepared to head down to breakfast.

* * *

Harry was sitting up in his bed, but Dean figured he was in deep thought, so he decided to save his game pep-talk for breakfast. _Not that, _Dean considering, pulling new robes on, _I have a lot I can really say to make him feel better. What he said last night was true, and that practice went horribly._

Making his way to the common room, Dean saw a bleary-eyed Ginny sitting up on the couch, and was slightly alarmed to see that she was in her pajamas. Fearing that she'd slept here last night, he put a smile on his face and walked over to her.

"Hey there," he said, sitting down next to her. "Do I even need to tell you that you shouldn't have slept here? You know the things that have taken place on this couch before, considering we've done some of them ourselves."

His levity left his mind when she looked up at him and he saw her red-brimmed eyes. _Damn, I know she had an argument with Ron before he got injured, but it wasn't her fault, and she has got to know that._

"Ginny," he said, using his hand to push up her chin so she'd meet his eyes, "you need to go up and change, get ready for the day, and then you need to talk to me about this. Talking it through will help you feel better, and I want you to feel better."

She looked at him warily, nodded, then headed for the stairs leading to her dormitory. As annoying as it was considering her unhappiness, Dean was aroused while watching her bum in the thin pajamas she was wearing.

_This is so not the time for this,_ he thought, and the thought was accentuated by Harry coming into the common room, looking down himself. _Why do I get the feeling that if I got a good look at every member of our team that we'd all look depressed today?_

"Hey, Harry," he said, as Harry didn't seem like he was drowning in a sea of thoughts at the moment, "I'll be down to breakfast shortly. Just waiting for Ginny to come down."

Harry nodded, stifled a yawn, and continued out the room without a word, looking slightly put-out.

_I know I've never done anything to purposely upset Harry_, he pondered, considering Harry's attitude towards him lately, _so why's he been acting like this? Sure, he was like a bomb last year, but he didn't treat me any worse. Hell, he's been fine this year with me until recently. What's-_

"Hi, Dean," Ginny said, and his thoughts left him as she gave him a nice, long kiss.

Breaking apart, Ginny continued as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, which, Dean considered happily, was pretty much the case.

"I know you wanted to talk, but we do have a game today, and we should probably-"

"No, Ginny," he said, more sternly than he'd have liked to, probably, noticing the slight scowl that was now on Ginny's face, "we have got to talk this through. You know it's not your fault Ron's in the hospital wing right now, no matter what's going on between you two."

"It's not just Ron," she replied, and Dean figured that while she was trying to sound annoyed, she couldn't get the tint of sadness out of her tone, "I also had a row with Hermione yesterday. We haven't talked since, and with as angry as Hermione was, I don't know when we will."

Dean was floored at this. _Hermione Granger, angry? Sure, she was pissed after the Yule Ball, but besides then, I don't think I've ever seen her in a state that could be reasonably considered angry._

"Did this have anything to do with your argument with Ron a few days ago," he asked slyly, and she looked up at him quickly.

"How did you-"

"I kind of put the pieces together while I went down to visit Ron yesterday," he admitted, then almost slapped himself when another piece of the puzzle fell into place. "You didn't refuse to visit Ron because you had a row with him, you refused to visit Ron because you knew Hermione would be there!"

Ginny nodded glumly, and Dean almost laughed when he realized what the picture on the puzzle he'd put together showed.

"Um," he started, not sure exactly the right way to phrase this, "is she-are they getting-"

"Yes, Dean," she said, exasperated at how Dean could do the things he did with her and still get flustered at the thought of another couple together, "if it was completely up to Hermione, they'd probably be snogging right now. Not that Ron would put up any resistance considering his-"

She stopped herself, and while Dean wasn't quite sure how she was intending on ending the sentence, he was happy she didn't. Dean had been sleeping in the same room as Ron for over five years now, and he had an inkling of Ron's feelings towards Hermione considering the things he'd sometimes moan in his sleep. Dean knew Neville and Harry would never bring it up, but he had to keep a very tight leash on Seamus about it sometimes.

He sat still for a second, and an uncomfortable question came to mind considering the evidence of Hermione rowing with Ginny about what she'd said to Ron.

"Ginny, do I want to know what you said to Ron after I left you three in the passageway," he asked slowly.

Ginny shook her head.

"No, Dean, you probably don't, which is good, because I wasn't going to tell you. My friendship with Hermione is already all kinds of fucked up, and I don't want the same to happen with you."

Dean was always surprised to hear how freely Ginny would cuss, but considering Ron never went much in the way of hiding it himself, he figured it was just some Weasley trait that was passed down like everything else in the family.

"Ginny, I can see how all this might be getting you a bit down, but what happened to Ron, well, you can't blame yourself for it. It was the Slytherins, or so the rumor is, and not your fault!"

Ginny looked straight into Dean's eyes, and he saw that some uncomfortable truth was just about to be revealed, and he hoped he'd be strong enough to withstand it.

"Dean, that's not exactly true. I need to tell someone this, and it might as well be you. Yesterday, before Ron started to practice..."

* * *

It was heaven. It was bliss. Her body was tingling and her face was consumed with flames. Of passion, most certainly, but it was only their first kiss, and she was not going to end it by jumping into the bed with Ron and straddling him.

_Besides, _she thought, breaking away from a Ron who looked like he'd been named Minister of Magic, _Madam Pomfrey did say that no strenuous activity would be allowed._

Hermione let out a giggle that soon turned into a real gut-busting laugh. She really hoped Ron didn't take it badly, considering how he could misinterpret almost everything, but he shocked her by joining in. Out of relief, Hermione suspected, but she wouldn't bring that up. Now that _that_ was out of the way, they still had important things to discuss.

After a minute or so, the laughter died down, and Hermione was shocked to feel Ron holding her hand. He looked embarrassed, but determined, and Hermione moved it so their fingers would be interlocked.

"Ron, I-," she started, sounding flustered, but Ron stopped her.

"Don't, Hermione, not right now. I need to process what just bloody happened."

"Language," she whispered, but she couldn't really care about something as minor as 'bloody' right now, so she just shut her mouth and started stroking Ron's hand with her thumb, something he seemed to have no qualms about.

"Hermione," he started after a minute of this, "why did you choose now to tell me? Did the idea of me laying in a hospital bed turn you on or something?"

"RON," she shrieked, and her face became very red, but she saw that he was chuckling, and figured it was just Ron doing what he did best, lightening up the mood. "No, Ron. Actually, I did it because Harry told me about the argument you got into with Ginny a few days ago."

The laughter from Ron died instantly, and so did the light in his eyes. While he didn't let go of her hand, he did shift slightly so it was harder to hold onto it, and he looked away from her.

"Oh, yeah, well, I probably shouldn't have said what I did to Ginny, and I took what she said a bit hard-"

"Ron, I know you don't want to talk about it," she said, really wanting him to look back at her, "and I won't press the issue for now, but I did have one question. The mood you've been in these past days, that was solely because she told you I snogged Krum?"

Ron's ears became a darker shade of red, and he shifted uncomfortably again, but he did turn back to look her in the eyes as he answered.

"Yeah, it was. That hurt me a lot, a hell of a lot more than catching Dean snogging Ginny, than anything else she said. And I'm sorry for being a prat to you, to everyone these past days, but every time I closed my eyes I'd bloody see you and Krum snogging and...well, more."

He averted his eyes from her before finishing, and Hermione was amazed she hadn't thought that Ginny's comment, while certainly not leaving an innocent picture, would lead Ron's mind down this trail.

"Ron, we will talk about this later, but just so you know, I never did anything more than snog Viktor, and the kiss we just shared was better in every conceivable way, starting with the fact that it was with who I wanted it to be with."

She was surprised to hear Ron's voice as he next spoke, as it sounded like he was talking through moderate tears.

"I've messed up so bad, Hermione. I should have really asked you to the Ball. I feel like a downright prat and coward for all the missed signs and opportunities to tell you how I felt. I just didn't think..."

He trailed off, but Hermione knew what he'd been about to say, and though she knew of his insecurities, considering she'd laid them out perfectly for Ginny to see, it still slightly broke her heart to hear that Ron hadn't thought she felt for him what he felt for her.

"Ron," she said, and he looked up at her with his red, teary eyes, causing Hermione to tear up a little herself, "we'll have to work on getting your self-esteem up, at the very least. I've never had eyes for anyone but you, Ron, not really. I've never thought of anyone but you. We've both made mistakes these past years, not just you. Neither of us is perfect, but we'll work past it. Together."

He smiled, and Hermione passed him some tissues from the box on the nightstand. He dabbed at his eyes while he replied, and judging on the question, Hermione thought it was so he didn't have to directly look at her.

"'Together'. Does that mean that you," he paused, looking like he was reaching for the right phrase, "you want to be an item with me outside of the Christmas party?"

"Ron, I'd be proud to call you my boyfriend to anyone and everyone who asked."

"And I'd be the same to call you my girlfriend to anyone who asked," he replied, smiling at her with beet-red ears, "except Snape. Or McGonagall, could you imagine telling her?"

Hermione let out a big laugh, and she realized that the weight that she'd felt on herself for the past years had been completely lifted from her, most liking by a ginger-haired handsome man.

Ron grinned, and Hermione knew that he'd always been happy when he could get a laugh out of her.

"Well, now that that's been settled," he said, a bit sadly, "I didn't get a great amount of sleep, and I don't want to hear the commentary for the match, so..."

Hermione very much suspected why this was the case, but she decided they'd start working on his inferiority complex while he wasn't lying in a hospital bed.

"That's fine, Ron. I'll stay with you," she said, and laughed at the expression on his face. "You know I don't really like Quidditch all that much, and my favorite player on the team isn't playing, so I don't figure I'll miss much."

Ron smiled, and Hermione could indeed tell he was tired. She slowly laid her head down on his chest, much like she did yesterday, gauging his reaction in case it was too much too quickly, though he seemed perfectly content with it. She turned so she was looking at his face this time instead of his feet. She gasped slightly when she felt his right hand start stroking her hair.

"Is this fine," he asked, and though he was obviously worn-out, he still sounded a bit nervous.

"It's perfect," she sighed, relishing the feeling, "but your hand, doesn't it hurt?"

"If it does, it's worth it," he muttered, and Hermione could see that he'd drifted off the shores of Awakeland and into the calming Sea of Sleep. Hermione was also pleased that his hand was still on top of her head, though she'd very much regret to risk awaking him by moving away.

_Well, Pomfrey didn't complain yesterday_, she thought, a bit drowsy herself, figuring the combination of disturbed sleep last night and relief from this conversation might explain it, _can't see why she'd be unhappy now._

Her thoughts drifted off, and so did she, and neither of them stirred when, fifteen minutes later, Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office to once again give them privacy, smiling as she did so.

* * *

_What is going on with Malfoy?_

This thought had been whirling in Harry's head ever since Dean informed him that Draco had decided not to play at breakfast, but Harry knew that it'd show incredible disloyalty to the team to skive off on the last minute and try to search the Marauder's Map for him. As it was, the only person on the team who even seemed in somewhat of a good mood was now extremely downcast, and Harry wondered if Ginny had broken up with Dean for some reason.

Of course, it'd have given Harry a foot in the door, but Harry had begun to start liking Dean again, and he knew that he didn't deserve a breakup with Ginny if it was just for some stupid reason.

Figuring he'd find out about the dynamics of the relationship later somehow, Harry pulled on his boots and looked over at his team, almost all of whom, with the exception of McLaggen, were already looking like they'd lost the match by four-hundred points.

_Oliver and Angelina would have broken down into tears if they had to Captain a team that looked this dejected without even starting the match._

"Okay, team," Harry begun, not sure exactly how to deliver this pep talk. "I know we're all hoping for Ron's quick recovery, but as it hasn't happened yet, we can't let it get the team down. We have a game to win."

This sounded very hollow to Harry, and the rest of the team seemed to agree, judging by the looks on their faces. Actually, Harry didn't know if Ron had recovered or not. Knowing that Hermione was there, he hadn't wanted to have any part in disturbing the conversation they were having, or anything else they could have been doing, so he hadn't checked in on Ron before the match.

"Okay, fine," giving into his frustration on the team, "not many people here seem to care that Ron's in the hospital wing, and there's not much I can do about it. You guys more seem to care about me calling you out on it, and I won't apologize for that. In fact, if my ears didn't deceive me, I heard you two," he stopped and pointed at Jimmy and Ritchie, "grumbling about going to Professor McGonagall and trying to get her to make McLaggen the new Captain."

At the very least, they had the decency to look embarrassed about this, though it didn't win them too many points in Harry's mind.

"You guys can do that if you want," he said, trying not to let his annoyance show, "but I can promise you that she'd make a house-elf from the kitchens the Gryffindor team Captain before Cormac."

"That's it, Potter," Cormac said, standing up and pulling out his wand, "I've taken enough shit from you, and after I'm done hexing your face off, I'm going to McGonagall to file a formal complaint about you."

Harry quickly pulled his own wand out and held it up, though he wisely decided not to point it directly at Cormac, as in his anger, he might have done something he'd deeply regret later.

"I've dueled Voldemort," he said, glaring at Cormac, not noticing the automatic flinch everyone gave at the sound of the name, "but hey, you might get lucky. You might win, but I have a feeling McGonagall won't be granting you any favors if you hex me."

They stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity, and Dean looked like he was about to get up himself when the door of the locker room opened up.

Silently hoping Cormac wouldn't be stupid or angry enough to curse Harry now, Harry quickly hid is wand up his sleeves. _There is no way I'm going out onto the field unarmed with this guy on my team._

Turning around, Harry saw a harried Madam Hooch taking in the scene. She didn't ask why Cormac had his wand out, so Harry figured he must have followed Harry's lead.

"You're late," she screeched, pointing at her stopwatch, "the Slytherin team are already on the field. Now follow me!"

Glancing back at his team, and not happy with what he saw, Harry led them out onto the field, the sun shining down on them, the clear day apparent. Harry heard the roar of Luna's lion hat, and it reminded him of his promise to search for her after the game. In fact, he'd probably need some of her blunt honesty and odd thoughts to cheer him up.

Shaking the hand of the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart, and getting his fingers crushed, something else came to Harry's mind. _Urquhart wasn't on the Quidditch team last year_, Harry wondered, trying not to show the pain his hand was in, _and Draco's been on the team since second year. Plus, his father bought the brooms they're still using. Why the hell is this new guy Captain? Why didn't Snape make Malfoy the new Captain?_

Harry decided that he'd talk to Ron and Hermione about this to see what they thought, if they were in a mood to involve him, that was. Bringing his crushed hand to his broom, he flew up once the shrill sound of Hooch's whistle went off. However, he nearly fell from his broom when he heard who was commentating the match.

"And they're off, " said the arrogant voice of Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff-by-name-only who Harry couldn't stand, "one of the most awkwardly put together teams we've seen from Gryffindor in years. Of course, it doesn't help that Katie Bell's currently at St Mungo's. And the whole school knows what happened to their sub-par Keeper and, coincidentally, best friend of the Seeker and Captain, Harry Potter-oh look, McLaggen, Gryffindor replacement Keeper, blocked a goal. Perhaps Weasley should get injured before every Quidditch match..."

Harry was beside himself in rage. _How the fuckin' hell did Smith get chosen as a commentator? Did they not do any background checks on this bastards' feelings towards Gryffindor?_

"So, the only reason Weasley's not here," Smith continued in his snide voice, "is because the guy knocked himself out during a solo practice with a Quaffle, can you believe the fool-"

Harry was looking for the Snitch, tying to block out the blathering from Smith, but it was getting to him, and the Slytherin replacement for Malfoy, Harper, seemed to be covering more ground than Harry was.

"Sorry, just been informed that it's suspected that Slytherin sabotaged the Quaffle Weasley was practicing with, or that's what Professor McGonagall says. Nice save from McLaggen, by the way, Urquhart will have to try harder than that, and that makes my point, doesn't it? Why would Slytherin sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker? They love playing against that pathetic excuse for a-"

There was a loud crashing sound, and Harry quickly looked behind him and saw that Ginny had crashed into the commentator's podium, disrupting the abuse from Smith.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and called a foul, though McLaggen was able to block Urquhart's throw. As usual, Harry spent the length of the foul looking around for the Snitch, and he thought he caught a glimmer of it near the ground of the Slytherin goalposts. Harry sped there at once, knowing that Harper was close behind him. Forcing his Firebolt to its limits, Harry arrived where he had seen the Snitch, but he couldn't locate it from here.

Frantically looking about for any sign of it, he saw Jimmy out of the corner of his eye come up behind him with a very odd expression on his face.

"Any Bludgers come your way yet, Harry," he yelled over the sounds of the crowd as McLaggen finally missed the Quaffle, and Harry thought this sounded like a pretense of being this close to him.

"No, thanks Jimmy, you two are doing great," he yelled back, flying high to get a bird's-eye view of the pitch, and to get away from Jimmy, as he hadn't liked the expression on his face at all. Harry was slightly annoyed to hear that Smith was back.

"After what I've been told was an unfortunate _accident_ on the part of Gryffindor Chaser _Ginevra_ Weasley, who seems to lack basic control over broom speed, I can now report that the score is 10-nothing Slytherin. McLaggen's been doing an excellent job at Keeping, and I wonder what Slytherin would have if _Ronald_ Weasley was out there. 60, at least..."

If it wasn't for the fact that Harry wanted to win this match, he'd do a Ginny and run into the condescending prick. _How this prat got into Dumbledore's Army I'll never know._

Minutes passed with no sight of the Snitch from either Harper or Harry, but Harry was far from the top of his game at this point. In these minutes, Smith implied that Bell's injuries were faked so she wouldn't have to play under Harry's leadership, Dean was only her replacement because they needed more token diversity on the team, and that Demelza's playing skills equaled that of a Manticore's.

Harry was seething with anger, and while he knew Professor McGonagall wasn't taking kindly to this, he doubted that he could get away with the same exact move that Ginny had made, but it seemed more and more like a welcoming idea the longer the match went on.

To top it off, while Dean, Ginny, and Demelza had scored at least six goals, the Slytherin Chasers seemed to have found a weakness in Cormac's defense, leading them to have two more goals over Gryffindor.

"Oh look, McLaggen has borrowed the Beater's bat from Coote, and replacement Chaser Thomas seems to be in an argument with him. And... yep, Urquhart scores, bringing it to 90-60 Slytherin. McLaggen's doing his best impression of Weasley, it seems..."

Harry turned his head, and seeing that McLaggen had indeed grabbed the bat from a confused and angry looking Ritchie, Harry flew towards the goals, quest for the Golden Snitch completely forgotten.

"CORMAC, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? GIVE THAT BAT BACK TO-"

He could say no more, however, as Cormac had just hit a Bludger, and it smacked Harry straight in the face, knocking him from his broom and causing the world to go dark.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was reading up on some new medical articles from St Mungo's when she heard a loud ruckus coming from outside the hospital wing. Quickly, she left her office and ran for the doors as they exploded open.

Professor McGonagall was in the lead, holding up a knocked out Harry with her wand. Behind her, what looked like the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team followed. She heard others in the hallway, but it seemed they decided to wait until the room cleared out a bit.

"Lay him here, Minerva," Pomfrey said, thinking quickly, pointing to the second bed on the left of the room, on the other side of where Ron was currently placed.

At this thought, the curtains around his bed were pulled back, and Pomfrey saw both Hermione and Ron were up, and looked aghast at the bloodied-up Harry across the room.

"Minerva, close the curtains," Pomfrey said, and as she did, Pomfrey went about cleaning his injury with a Summoned wash-rag and bowl of water.

"Quidditch again," Pomfrey asked, slightly harshly. She was surprised any of the Quidditch players were able to make it out of school intact sometimes.

"Yes," McGonagall replied swiftly, "hit by a Bludger aimed straight at him, distance of less than twenty feet."

"Seems like you were right in your idea about Slytherin doing a mass attack on your team," she said, tracing the head wound with her wand. "Which Slytherin did it?"

"Oh, it wasn't a Slytherin, Poppy," McGonagall replied angrily, "it was McLaggen, the Keeper replacement for Mr. Weasley."

"What," Pomfrey hissed, shocked, "the replacement-"

"Yes," McGonagall said tersely, "though once I'm done with him, he'll wish he was in another House. Do what you can, Poppy, I need to quell the mob outside."

Pomfrey nodded, and continued to look Harry over for injuries.

* * *

The second McGonagall came out from behind curtains, a multitude of questions came towards her.

"What happened to Harry-"

"Where's McLaggen?"

"Is he going to be-"

"Enough," she said, and though she didn't shout it, everyone immediately quieted down. Looking over them, she saw Hermione was next to Ron's bed, holding his hand.

"Miss Granger, you weren't at the match today," she asked, not recalling Hermione following her and the rest of the team here.

"No, I was here, with Ron," she said, blushing, and McGonagall wondered what exactly had transpired between the two, and decided to keep a closer watch on them. "What happened to Harry? Is he alright?"

"That prat McLaggen-"

Ginny silenced, however, due to McGonagall's glare.

"Mr. Potter was knocked out by a Bludger aimed at him by Mr. McLaggen," she said, and Hermione and Ron gasped, looking shocked. "I will deal with McLaggen's punishment, and no retribution against him shall be tolerated. Is that clear?"

She gazed over the mutinous team of Gryffindors, knowing full-well what members of her House were capable of once riled up. She saw anger in every face from the team, and she hoped McLaggen would watch his back while in the common room.

The curtains around Harry's bed opened again, and Madam Pomfrey came out.

"I've healed his head injury, so there won't even be a scar. From that, anyway," she said, looking over the crowd. "I expect he'll be fine, but I will not have you all waiting here until he gets up. He will need rest and quiet once he's up, rest and quiet he won't get if you'll all be standing around and planning the murder of McLaggen."

McGonagall held back a smile, and was happy to see that the team had the decency to at least look guilty about this. Pomfrey continued in a lighter voice.

"Two of you may stay, but you'll have to be quiet." With this, Pomfrey walked to her office, muttering about dangerous games and reckless players.

McGonagall watched as the team got together for a minute to discuss who would be left behind, and, unsurprising McGongall, Dean and Ginny were the ones to remain, the rest of them walking out the door. She heard them discussing with two other people, and if she wasn't hearing things, heard the sound of a lion roaring. She heard Ron chuckling and turned to look at him.

"Luna," he whispered to Hermione, still shaking with laughter. "Oh, I love that girl-Not, I mean, not like, you know-damn."

Hermione just shook her head, laughing herself, and situated her fingers so they interlocked with Ron's. McGonagall decided to question Pomfrey quickly before interviewing Ron about his practice yesterday, and followed Pomfrey into her office.

Shutting the door behind her, she turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy, how long has Miss Granger been here in the hospital wing with Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh, today, about four hours, yesterday, about five," she said, a smile on her face as she started to write another injury report.

"What have they been doing? They seem a bit," she paused, thinking of past interactions between the two she'd been a witness to, "a bit closer with each other than I've seen before."

"Oh, you know the answer to that, Minerva," she replied, smiling up at McGonagall, "Patient confidentiality."

"You know I hate that excuse, Poppy."

"And you know that, for me, it's never been an excuse, it's been how I treat my patients. Now, if we're going to be discussing things about each other we don't like, about your views on Quidditch..."

* * *

As the door shut behind McGonagall, awkward silence grew in the hospital wing, broken by a soft cough from Dean.

Hermione noticed that Ginny and Dean, while next to Harry, didn't seem particularly close to each other in proximity, and Dean looked like he was having a mental struggle quite unrelated to what had happened to Harry.

"So, I hate to ask," Ron said awkwardly, and Hermione saw that he looked uncomfortable, "but how much did we lose the match by?"

"It was 240-60. Harper was able to grab the Snitch right after Harry had been hit, and before Hooch blew her whistle."

Ginny had replied, but she was quiet, and she didn't turn to face Ron. Hermione wondered how much of this had to do with her being by his side.

"Harper," Ron asked, confused, "What about Malfoy? He's the Slytherin Seeker."

"Malfoy was sick or something, so he couldn't play," Ginny said, sounding tired.

Silence came again, and while Hermione thought it might help a bit if she left the room, she didn't much fancy the idea of leaving Ron's side, or his wonderfully warm hand.

"Uh, I think we need to talk about some stuff," Hermione said quietly, hoping they could clear the air without letting loose an explosion, considering McGonagall and Pomfrey were just one room away.

"You want to talk, Hermione," Ginny asked listlessly, looking over at her. Hermione saw that while she wasn't crying, her eyes had a dull look to them that Hermione had almost never seen there before, and she didn't much care for it. "Fine. Let's talk. You and Ron are together now, right? You haven't let go of his hand since we've been here, and he certainly hasn't let go of yours."

She saw Ron's ears turned red, and Hermione was feeling a little blushed herself, but she replied with a steady voice.

"Yes, Ginny, we are, and I guess, in a long about way, we have you to thank for that."

Dean looked up quickly, glancing at her and Ron's face, evidently looking to find something, and Hermione wondered what that was all about.

"Yeah, well, hope you have a good relationship and all that," she said lifelessly, "Fred and George will be happy. They had a bet with every other member of the family that it'd happen this year."

"But, Ginny," Hermione said slowly, remembering her complete denial at knowing she had liked Ron, "you said you had no idea that I-"

"I lied," she said bluntly. "I was already torn into a hundred pieces by you, why give you the chance to set the pieces on fire?"

Things became quiet again, which worked out well, as Professor McGonagall came striding out of Pomfrey's office and headed for Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, I've been informed by Madam Pomfrey that you're doing well, and she said that she'll look you over later today, and if that goes well, she'll be discharging you."

Ron looked up in wonder, probably thinking the same thing Hermione was thinking: When did Pomfrey ever release someone who got injured like Ron did so quickly?

"Before that, however," McGonagall continued, pulling up a chair and sitting down, "I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday during your Quidditch practice. I've been informed by Madam Pomfrey that Miss Granger would probably prefer to stay during this, and as long as it's fine with you, Mr. Weasley, it's fine with me."

Hermione blushed deeply, seeing that McGonagall's eyes flickered to their entwined hands. _I realize that Ron meant it as a joke, but I really wouldn't want to talk to McGonagall about what's now going on between Ron and I._

"It's fine, Professor, I want her to stay," Ron said quickly, though his ears were a bit red. "I don't know how much I can really tell you, Professor. It started off like a normal practice. I did the spell correctly, and it was working fine."

"Well, for starters, Mr. Weasley," she asked, taking him in, "why were you practicing alone that afternoon when you were going to have an extensive team practice after dinner?"

"Well, actually," Ron started, and Hermione could tell he didn't really want to talk about this, "I've been a bit... short with the rest of the team recently, and I get nervous when others watch me practice, so I thought it'd just be best to practice without them around for a bit."

"After you Charmed the Quaffle, did you notice anything different about its movements?"

"Yeah, it was, um," he tapped his fingers on his right hand on the bed sheet, trying to find the right word, "erotic-NO! Sorry, erratic-"

Hermione used her hand that wasn't with Ron's to cover her mouth for a few seconds, as she was trying very hard not to laugh. She could tell that Ron was completely mortified, but it was just too damn funny. To her credit, McGonagall made no comment on it, though the corner of her mouth was twitching. She simply asked Ron to explain how it was acting differently.

"Well, it," Ron was flustered, but he seemed to be getting a grip on himself, probably due to the fact no one commented on his error, "you know, usually it flies directly at the goals and completely avoids me? Well, it sometimes swerved straight at me, which is how it got my hand. It also would fly straight for the hoops, and right before it got to me, just stop and back up again, which it never did before."

Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered, and asked if, in Ron's opinion, he thought the Quaffle was trying to hurt him, or if it doing so was an accident.

"No, not really," he said slowly, "I think that was just, um, incidental. I don't think that was the main motive. Which is strange, because why would a Slytherin have cursed it in a way not to attack me all the time instead of what it did?"

McGonagall seemed either to not have an answer to that question, or wasn't willing to give it.

"Forget about the Slytherins for a second, Mr. Weasley," she said, her chin now perched on her hand, "is there anyone you've been in a dispute with recently? You said you've been 'short' with the rest of the team. Why?"

Before Ron had opened his mouth to answer, the door to the hospital wing was slammed open, and Hermione saw Ginny's red hair as she run from the room, Dean in close pursuit. Right then, a terrible thought came to Hermione, and looking at Ron, it had come to him as well. His mouth just hung open, and before McGonagall could ask if he was alright, Hermione spoke up.

"Professor," she said quietly, and McGonagall turn to look at her, "Ron got into an argument a few days ago... With Ginny..."


End file.
